


Fred and Wesley: In the Good Place

by Fitzsimmons_Forever



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angst, But it's ok: They're in the Good Place, Canon Divergence - Post "Sleep Tight", Crossover: The Good Place, F/M, Fluff, Fred and Jenny are Besties, Fred dies later on, Justine succeeds in killing Wesley, Spoilers for Angel Season 3 and the Good Place Season 1, These two deserve to be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-05-06 09:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14638545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzsimmons_Forever/pseuds/Fitzsimmons_Forever
Summary: "I blinked. I took off my glasses and wiped them on my shirt sleeve then replaced them. I blinked again. I wasn’t imagining it: printed on the wall in front of me - in bright green letters no less - were the words ‘Welcome! Everything is fine.’ "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce's attempt to save Connor ends in tragedy: left for dead by Justine, that's exactly how he ends up. Until he wakes up to find himself in an idyllic paradise called the Good Place as a reward for living a selfless life. Also, saving the world. Wesley's transition is helped by Fred, who by some miracle ended up in the same neighbourhood in the afterlife. When the pair are informed that soul mates exist, they relish their chance at the happiness poor fortune denied them in life. But even in the Good Place, nothing is ever easy for Wesley and Fred...





	1. Everything is Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing fanfiction for this couple, which rapidly became one of my favourite ever pairings. I've been obsessing over this idea for weeks and finally put my thoughts in text. I will try to update this frequently, but may struggle due to exams. Hope you enjoy this story, a 'what if' crossover where Wesley died in Season 3 - which later caused Fred's death - and both ended up in the Good Place.

Wesley

I blinked. I took off my glasses and wiped them on my shirt sleeve then replaced them. I blinked again. I wasn’t imagining it: printed on the wall in front of me - in bright green letters no less - were the words ‘Welcome! Everything is fine.’

“How reassuring.” I muttered. “Because it’s perfectly normal to wake up in a strange place with no memory of how one got there, and sudden memory loss is no cause for concern.” The mystery of how I got here wasn’t the only memory I was missing either: I had no idea where I’d been a few seconds ago - as I didn’t feel like I’d just woken up - where here was… or where any of my friends were. I glanced around the room. Vases with tasteful flower arrangements. Plain cream walls. A strangely relaxing noise coming from a small gurgling fountain. The sofa I was sitting on was comfortable.

Two doors. One set of light, wooden double doors. Another set of glass doors on the opposite side of the room, my right. Outside was what appeared to be a normal street. The sun was shining. It looked more like a quaint suburb than anywhere in Los Angeles. Green gardens, trees, small homely looking buildings… deeply strange.

Well, I suppose if I had been kidnapped and thrown into a hell dimension it was one of the nicer ones. I strained my mind, desperately attempting to remember anything. I remembered visiting the ridiculous talking burger. Getting back to the hotel. Talking with Angel, being relieved that I could finally wash my hands of the nonsense prophecy…

I stiffened. The three signs. The Father will kill the son. I had to get out of here, figure out what happened to me and get back to the hotel. I’d wasted enough time: I had to tell Fred and Cordelia, if the latter was back. If Cordy wasn’t back, Fred would be enough: she’d know what to do. Together we could go to Gunn, then Angel and sort this out. 

If she believed me. How likely was that, after how petty and awful I’d been to her about her and Gunn? God, I’d been such an arse. I’d have to apologise. First things first: was I tied to this _really quite comfortable - sofa by some kind of mystical energy? I shuffled to the end of the sofa and stretched my arm out as far as I could. Not vaporised. I slowly extended my legs forwards as far as they could. Nothing. I waved my arms wildly: not vaporised. Perfect, now to -

A slight creak from the left: I whipped my hand round, arms and legs frozen in place. One of the wooden doors had swung open: beyond the doorway was what looked suspiciously like an office. But I honestly couldn’t tell you what was in the room, why I should care or what my name was. Because Fred was standing in the doorway. 

Fred.

She had the tiniest, cutest frown on her angelic face, biting her lip like she was thinking through a problem. One hand still on the door handle, ready to pull the door closed behind her. Eyes almost glazed over, a faraway look: like she could see a whole other world beneath the surface of this one. (Admittedly given her extensive knowledge of quantum physics and alternate realities, she probably had a better claim to that than anyone). She was wearing a pale blue, long summery dress with plain sandals and a simple seashell necklace. She was effortlessly, achingly, impossibly beautiful. She’d see me any second.

And my arms and legs were still frozen in their windmill extension where I sat on the sofa, looking like an absolute idiot. I frantically tried to assume a normal pose in the microsecond I would have before she noticed me. I was halfway back to normal when she did.

And her whole face lit up, eyes practically glowing with childlike wonder, sucking in a shocked breath, one hand actually going to her chest as her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ of surprise. She really was unfairly beautiful. “Wesley.” She whispered, taking a few shaky steps forwards. “Is that… is that really you?”

I withdrew the rest of my limbs, stood up and smiled sheepishly. “Who else would I b-“  
I was cut off when she sprinted across the room and threw her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. The air was driven out of me, less by the impact and more by the… well, emotional impact. I didn’t finish my sentence, but I was fairly happy with how it had worked out. I reciprocated the hug. She rocked gently in my arms, and it took me a few seconds to realise she was sobbing: soft aching sobs that spoke not of simple pain, but genuine loss: heartbreak, even.

“Fred,” I said gently. “It’s ok. Don’t worry. We’re ok. This is going to be fine. What’s wrong?”  
She sniffled, head now buried in my shoulder. “I missed you so much. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wished I’d done differently. So much I…” Then she was sobbing again and I felt the overwhelming urge to grip her tighter and hold her, to say anything - do anything - to stop her feeling this way. “Fred, it’s only been hours.” I smiled. “I’m here now. What do you need to say?”

She laughed hoarsely. “See you haven’t lost your sense of humour. Hours, yeah only been hours - just 1,344 of them, give or take a couple dozen, then I suppose accounting only for conscious hours it’s closer to 896, maybe 1000 when you account for the fact I haven’t slept so well what with all the-”

Just as I was starting to feel content, losing myself in one of her long windy sentences she cut herself off and looked up into my face. “Oh God.” She whispered. “Oh gosh darn. You don’t know yet. I am so sorry, I didn’t-”

A horribly icy feeling was settling in my stomach as I processed the entirety of what she’d said. Thousands of hours? That wasn’t possible. I’d seen her last this very afternoon. Granted by the light outside it looked like early afternoon so it had been at most just under a day, which would have given me time to get away to a suburb… but wouldn’t explain why I had no memory of the trip. 

“Fred, what’s happening?” I whispered. “Are you safe? Are we safe? Where are we?”  
Fred shook her head and smiled sadly. “Not my place to say. I just want you to know it didn’t hurt a bit. So don’t worry when you find out.”  
That icy feeling had condensed into something very much approaching panic, with a hint of righteous anger - not at Fred of course, but whatever was scaring her so. “Fred, please explain. What didn’t hurt?”  
“I shouldn’t say any more,” She murmured, a flush creeping into her cheeks. I was suddenly terribly, uncomfortably aware of how tightly we were wound together. I slowly began to extricate myself, Fred following suit after a few seconds with a look of… disappointment? I must be reading it wrong. Maybe it was guilt.

Guilt. Gunn!

Oh dear lord, had I screwed up. 

Fred idly wrapped a few hairs around a finger and twirled, looking at her feet. “I can’t really explain. Best to leave that to Michael.”  
“Michael?” I frowned.  
“Wesley?” A voice called from the office. I heard the telltale sound of a chair scraping against the floor, footfalls approaching the doorway. I subconsciously positioned myself between Fred and the doorway ready to face down whatever monstrous entity had brought us here, into this… weirdly relaxing waiting area. It had to be a trap: no waiting room on Earth was this pleasant. Especially in America.

An elderly man stepped into the doorway, looked me in the eyes and gave me a charming smile. “Hi Wesley. I’m Michael. Nice to meet you.” I looked him up and down: he certainly appeared human. Styled snow-white hair. An old-fashioned yet charming blue suit with a brightly coloured bow tie and suspenders. A bright white smile. Warm, soft blue eyes. “How are you today?” He asked.

I felt the tension ease out of me, shoulders relaxing and a sense of calm pervading me. It was hard to feel threatened by an elderly, charming man in a bow tie. “Umm. Fine?”  
“That’s great.” He smiled encouragingly. “I see you’ve met Wini-, sorry Fred.” He smiled self-consciously and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “You didn’t spill all the beans, did you Fred?” He raised an eyebrow, humour sparkling in his eyes.

Fred shook her head. “No of course not, I just didn’t realise, it’s been a really long day, I mean it was night for me a second ago and then I was here, there was a really quite stressful meeting and then I saw Wesley-”  
“Relax. I wouldn’t even blame you for spilling the beans,” Michael winked. “We can all get a little excited when we run into Champions.” He raised a clipboard that he’d previously had at his side, eyes flicking down it. “Oh, you two knew each other! That’s wonderful news. Should help ease the transition.”

“What transition?” I practically ran through my next words in my desire to ask questions before even more of the conversation passed me by. “Where am I? How did I get here? Who are you? Why is Fred here?”

He chuckled. “I’m Michael, and I’m going to explain away everything. If you could just step in my office, we can have orientation finished faster than you can say something with five hundred syllables!” Fred snorted from behind me.

I hesitated, looking to Fred. She smiled encouragingly. “Go on. I’ll be right here. Everything is fine. Just… keep that big brain of yours open, huh?” She giggled.

Michael hesitated, smile slipping for a few seconds. “I’d really prefer you got to orientation quickly, Fred. I’ll have Wesley there in a jiffy. Lots of people for you to mingle with.”  
Fred crossed her arms and shook her head and looked at Michael with that steely expression that said ‘I’m not going anywhere’. I barely suppressed the urge to kiss her right then. “I’m not going anywhere. Fifty-six days is long enough.” Fifty-six days? How could I have lost 56 days of worth of memories? My hand went to my chin: no more facial hair than earlier. So I couldn’t have been in a coma…

Michael’s smile was back. “Sure. Just, ah, wait right there. Call Janet if you need anything. Right this way, Wesley.” He disappeared back into the office. I kept looking at Fred.

She rolled her eyes. “Get in there already, slow-poke. And remember: it didn’t hurt a bit.”  
I hesitated. “Right. I’ll errr, be right back.” Fred nodded encouragingly and did a small wave. I waved back, took a deep breath and walked into the office, shutting the door behind me. The room was slightly smaller than the waiting room I’d just left, snugly carpeted and with two windows letting in shafts of light: not too bright, but not too dim either. In addition to a large, impressive wooden desk stacked at the edges with paperwork the room was dominated by what looked like a very strange collection of objects. This was probably the first collection of objects I’d seen that was strange not by virtue of its constituent objects’ weirdness, but because of their sheer mundanity. A tray filled entirely with paperclips, placed so as to obviously be decorative. A glass case full of assorted knickknacks. An oil painting hung in a place of honour that appeared to depict a twenty-something man who was obviously high. How peculiar. I sat down gingerly at across the desk from Michael and turned to face him.

“So, sorry about the disruption out there.” Michael muttered, grabbing a slender folder of documents off the nearest pile and opening it on the desk. “I usually prefer to greet residents individually, I really have no idea what crazy accident of the universe made you materialise a few minutes early.”

“Michael.” I interrupted, leaning back in my chair and crossed my arms. “But before we go any further, I need to know where I am and what’s happened.”“Right.” Michael sucked air in through his teeth and looked me dead in the eyes. “You, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce… are dead. Your life on Earth has ended and you’re in the next phase of your existence.”  
I blinked, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t come: Michael was gazing at me, face completely serious. “That can’t be right. I don’t remember dying, I was just at the Hyperion hotel with Angel…”  
“After which you have a large gap in your memory with no idea how you got here?” Michael said gently. “Your death - and the evening leading up to it - was… rather traumatic. Painful. In the case of deaths like yours, we tend to erase the memory of the event: prevents you from being burdened or dragged down: helps you to move on.”  
“Right. So this is… the Afterlife?” I looked around. “I must admit, I expected something a bit different.”  
“Oh, wait until you see the rest of it. It’s killer.” Michael’s eyes widened. “Oh gosh, sorry no. It’s nice. It’s real nice. Oh my, I am such a screwup.”

The realisation that Michael wasn’t lying, and that I was dead hit me like a train, and I sank backwards into my chair. “How did I die?”  
“Well, after your meeting with Angel you became determined to save Connor’s life. You agreed to take him to your place for the night, and left the hotel with him fully intending to never return.” I felt a severe pang of guilt: surely I wouldn’t do something like that? Leave, without saying goodbye? Without confiding in anyone? Without saying anything to Fred?

“On your way out of the city, you found Justine. She was on the floor, bleeding from multiple stab wounds. She claimed to have been betrayed by Holtz. You put Connor in your car, and went to help her up so you could take her to the hospital. As soon as you got close, she sliced your throat and took the car and Connor.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Oh God. I screwed it all up.”  
“No, no, no.” Michael smiled. “You didn’t. The situation is fully resolved now. Some of your friends found your body and concluded what must have happened: Angel eventually tracked down Holtz, spurred on by rage at Holtz abducting his child and murdering you. Holtz is gone, so’s Justine for that matter. Angel has Connor back! And, let’s say you don’t need to worry about seeing Holtz here.”

“And… where is here, precisely?” I looked up at Michael, anticipation coiling in my gut. Surely, with a last-minute betrayal like that there was no way I deserved anywhere good.  
“Right. Well. The afterlife isn’t how the theologians or the sorcerers predicted it, Wesley. Suffice to say: there’s a good place… and a bad place.” Michael smiled warmly. “You’re in the Good Place.”

“Thank God.” I murmured. I wondered if “Is there anyone here that I knew….

Fred. She was here. Which meant.

Oh, no. Poor Fred.

“Michael.” I sat up, and stared him down. “Was Fred’s death - in any way - related to… what I mean to say, was it my-”  
“I’m gonna stop you right there, Wesley. You. Did. Not. Cause. Fred’s death.” Michael shook his head and chuckled. “You really do enjoy blaming yourself, huh.” He peeked at a page in his folder and nodded. “Yep, sure do.”

“How did she… what I mean to say, was it-”

'I just wanted you to know, it didn’t hurt a bit.'

“She already knew? Out there?” I nodded to the door.  
Michael nodded. “Yeah. You’re actually the last person on my orientation list.”  
“Wait - if we’re both here together and I don’t remember any intervening time, does that mean Fred… died, almost straight after me? I thought she said months?” “No. Time’s a little different here.” Michael drummed his fingers on the desk. “The Good Place is divided into distinct neighbourhoods, each with a handpicked population designed to ensure eternal bliss. We keep souls in storage until that perfect blend comes up. It’s been about, hmm, 3 months since you died. 1 month for Fred. We figure that forcing some people to sit around in a lonely neighbourhood eating frozen yoghurt waiting for other people to die isn’t really ‘paradise’.” Michael chuckled.

“I suppose not.” I murmured.  
“Alrighty.” Michael smiled. “I think we’re just about done here. Ready for orientation?”  
“Hang on.” I asked. “What happened on Earth in the last 3 months?”  
“Some interesting stuff.” Michael muttered, flipping through his folder. “Specifically with regards to people you know: Gunn almost lost his soul to a casino-operating demon… Giles and Angel charged head-first into an alternate dimension… Plague of demon slugs that really like milkshakes… Alexander almost married a demon… oh, Willow Rosenberg came this close to destroying the universe. Yeah that’s all I got.”  
“Willow almost destroyed the universe?”  
“Yeah, she read these crazy evil books went emo, full on dark side vibes. ‘Give in to your anger’. Made for great viewing. Lots of drama. All resolved now anyway. Been a crazy few months.”  
“Apparently so.” I put an elbow on the armrest and rested my head on it. I smiled wryly: so egotistical of me to assume the world would cease to be exciting just because I was no longer in it.”

Apparently oblivious, Michael stood up and clapped happily. “Well, with that finished we can get started on Orientation!” Michael walked to the door and held it open for me. I went back into the waiting area: Fred - true to her word - had waited. She was curled up in the sofa, glasses on, reading an impossibly thick book. Her head snapped to face me and she smiled warmly, setting the book down.

I walked over and wordlessly embraced her. “It’s okay.” She murmured, rubbing my back gently. “You’re okay.”  
“I’m sorry you died, Fred.” I whispered, fighting back tears. “You lost so much because of me.”  
“Pfft. Don’t be sorry: wasn’t your fault.” She paused. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel you could confide in me. I never want that to happen again.”  
“Me either.”  
“Do you…” I swallowed. “Remember? Dying.”  
“Yes.” Fred replied. “But it didn’t hurt. Not really. Some parasitic slug crawled in my mouth so that tasted gross. After that, I lost any sensation beyond sight and hearing. No pain. Guess it’s the slug’s way of keeping hosts pacified. But I died surrounded my friends. It didn’t hurt, and I knew I was loved.” She sniffled, and I saw a single tear slide down her face. 

Michael cleared this throat and shuffled his feet slightly, glancing hesitantly towards the door. “Sorry to pull you two apart, but we’re gonna be late for orientation.”  
I laughed: first day in paradise, and already I was late for a meeting. Classic. “Well, we can’t have that.”  
“No, gosh.” Fred giggled. “Would be truly inconsiderate of us to delay orientation… is there a video?”  
“Of course - what sort of orientation doesn’t have a video?”  
“Well, I’m sold.” I looked at Fred. She smiled, gently broke the embrace and linked her arm with mine.  
“Let’s get going.” She smiled.

Michael led the way out the door, exiting onto a relatively wide street, lined with houses and shops: a book store, frozen yoghurt, taco restaurant…

“So.” Michael smiled, turning to look back at us. “Before we get going, I just want to say I am a huge fan of your works.”  
“Our… works?” I raised an eyebrow.  
“Yeah! I mean, obviously you guys saving the world repeatedly was nice and all. But, Fred: that paper you were drafting on supersymmetry…” Michael shook his head. “Truly insightful.”  
Fred balked. “You… read my paper?”  
“Of course I did! Ooh, did you know after your death your friends had it published? It’s the talk of the scientific community.”  
“Oh.” Fred blushed bright red, face almost split open by the largest grin I’d ever seen. “That’s err… nice?”“It’s wonderful.” I interjected. “But not a surprise.” She flushed even redder - something I previously hadn’t thought possible - adjusted her glasses, and stared at the floor, sappy, wonderful grin unaltered.

“Is there anyone else we know here? Any of our friends?” I asked Michael, as we entered into a small park. A shimmering, sapphire blue lake surrounded by a green field on this side and an untouched, beautiful forest on the other, teeming with birds and small critters.  
“No.” He shook his head. “The rest of your friends are all alive. My system didn’t recognise anyone either of you knew well here except you two. 1 in 10 million odds you two ended up in the same neighbourhood by the way: these places are opening up near constantly. It’s just…. crazy. I suppose the system just thinks you both belong here.”

“Yes.” I smiled, subtly turning to look at Fred. “I think I’m exactly where I belong.” I immediately flushed bright red: how could I have said that? What kind of idiot was I? What if Fred noticed? What if she didn’t? Fred - apparently, thankfully oblivious to my comment - was gazing out over the lake. “It’s so beautiful.”  
Michael chuckled. “What else did you expect from paradise? Ah, my orientation area!”

Spread out on an open area of grass in front of us were several hundred deckchairs, arranged in rows and almost all of them occupied. The people sitting in them were chatting animatedly, laughing and generally seemed to be having the time of their lives. “I’ll leave you two to find your seats. I’ve got to get ready to do my introductory speech!” Michael clapped gleefully and sped off towards the stage.

I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s certainly…”  
“Animated?” Fred smiled. “Very. I think I see some seats just there…”  
Fred carefully made her way past several people to get to two seats together near the centre of the row, untangling our arms so she could get through more easily. I felt a slight pang of sorrow at the loss of contact. Fred flopped down into the chairs and I followed suit.

“These are incredibly comfortable.” Fred murmured, shifting slightly. “I’m sure deckchairs were never this cosy before…”  
“I suppose it’s a perk of the Good Place.” I murmured. “Fred?”  
She turned to face me and smiled. “Yes, Wesley?”  
“If you don’t mind could you catch me up on what happened at Angel Investigations after my… death?  
She hesitated. “It’s a long story.”  
I glanced at the stage. Michael was sitting on the front of it, chatting with some people in the front row. Various other seats in the audience were unfilled. “I think we have some time. That is, if you don’t mind telling me. If you don’t want to-”

“No!” Fred interjected, one hand coming up to twirl a strand her of hair around. “When do you want me to start?”  
“The beginning? As the song says-”  
“A very Good Place to start.” Fred finished, smiling. “Well. It was a dark and stormy night…”


	2. Say not in Grief "He is no more" but live in thankfulness he was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred takes Wesley on a - slightly edited - trip down memory lane, exploring the months following his death.

**Fred**

 

I was walking quickly, almost running. For the first time in hours, I felt hopeful: we had proof. Wesley’s diaries _proved_ that he hadn’t really betrayed us, that he he’d been trying to save Connor: which only raised the question of how Holtz had gotten ahold of Connor. Surely, Wesley hadn’t handed him over? He couldn’t have.

 

I shivered slightly as I exited the threshold of Wesley’s house: it was an eerie night. Dark clouds boiled overhead, threatening at any moment to discharge the wrath of the heavens. Lightning crackled in the distance-

 

_“Lightning? Are you sure? I definitely remember the forecast being for a clear sky…”_

_“Shut up, Wes. I was there. It was dark and stormy.”_

_“Are you sure you aren’t just being dramatic?”_

_“You were dead. You have no idea what the weather was like. Three words: Ominous. Dark. Stormy.”_

 

I reached Charles’ car and gripped the handle, itching to be on the move. I turned and yelled impatiently. “Charles, hurry up! We need to find him.”

 

Charles had broken off from the walk to the car. He was edging slowly onto the small park in front of Wesley’s house. A frown was plastered across his handsome features, knuckles white on the handle of his sword. His gaze was fixed on a spot of ground just beyond my sight, blocked by a tree.

 

“…Charles?” I called out, taking a few steps towards him. “What is it?”

Then his whole face lit up. “Fred, I found him! He’s right here!” Charles sprinted forwards and I followed, charging onto the grass, almost falling head over heels to get there. As I rounded the tree, I saw Charles drop down to the ground next to a dark mass on the ground… that quickly resolved itself into Wesley. He had fallen on his side, facing away from us. “Wesley!” I cried, feeling my spirits soar upwards. 

 

Charles reached out and gripped his shoulder. “Wes, thank God you’re okay. Wes?” I drew closer, a tight cord of worry beginning to knot inside my stomach. Charles shook Wesley’s shoulder a little harder and he rolled over onto his back. Charles screamed.

 

Wesley’s front was caked in blood. His shirt was soaked with the stuff, stuck to his front. His jacket was drenched in it, tiny drops of blood rolling off it onto the ground. There was a gaping wound across his throat, rivulets of blood coming out where it once must have been a waterfall. His hands were both soaked in blood, caked in it: they’d fallen at his side, but had clearly been pressed to the awful wound in his neck, in a desperate attempt to stop the flow. Where he’d been lying in the small pool of his own blood, half his face had been soaked in the stuff: his glasses had fallen in, floating unevenly on the surface. And his eyes. Those bright, sharp eyes always full of thoughts and reasons, ideas and strategies… they were blank now. Glassy.

 

Dead.

 

Not Wesley. Wesley, who’d helped to pull me of out of hell. Wesley, who’d led us through thick and thin. Wesley, who would have sacrificed himself to save any one of us. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t _fair_. 

 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

 

“Oh no. Fred, Wes is hurt bad. Come over here and help me.” Charles put one hand over the gash in his neck, the other arm wrapping around Wesley. I stood frozen. Those drips of blood were escaping between his fingers now, staining them red on their journey to the soil. 

 

“Charles,” I whispered, stepping forwards and reaching out to touch his shoulder. “We can’t help him now.”

“No!” Charles whimpered. “C’mon, we can get him to a hospital. He can pull through.”

“It’s too late.” I felt the breath catch in my throat. “We’re… _we_ are too late.”

“No… dammit, no.” Then tears began to slide down Charles’ cheeks, cascading. “DAMMIT, NO!” His hands went to Wesley’s chest and he began desperately to compress. “Fred, you do the breathing thing. Quickly! We can still do this!”

 

I gently put an arm around Charles and pulled him backwards. He fell onto me, sniffling, sobbing the stream of tears now a waterfall. “Not Wesley.” He sobbed. “Not my dear, precious Wesley.” 

“I’m here, Charles.” I whispered, rocking him gently. “I’m here.”

“It can’t be,” He choked, breaking down even further as his whole body was heaved by the sobs. Charles continued. “I would have _known._ I would have _felt it_ if he died. He can’t be _dead._ He’s _family._ He’s my sweet, precious Wesley. Chivalrous and kind and smart and… _ALIVE_ damn you, he should be alive!”

 

Charles looked up at the sky and just screamed, a terrifying animal scream that echoed pain. Heartbreak. It was pure, tragic loss and _need._ “HELL WASN’T ENOUGH?” He demanded. “THAT WASN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU? I HAVE TO LOSE HIM TOO? YOU CAN’T! POWERS, BRING HIM BACK!!! DO IT!!”

 

We stayed like that for a while, grieving together. The sky lit up with lightning and thunder rumbled. It sounded very much like a deep, throaty chuckle.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

“Oh.” Wesleysat back in his chair. “Throat cut. That sounds… painful. A _pool_ of my own blood?”

“Yes.” I replied, repressing a shudder at the memory. It was months ago… but felt as sharp and clear as if it were yesterday.

“You know,” Wesley looked at me. “It is uncharacteristic of… Charles to be so emotional.”

I felt the flush start to creep up my neck. “He was distraught.”

“Yes, so it sounds.” Wesley smiled, tilting his head. “It sounds like you handled it well.”

“Well,” I shrugged, praying the blush hadn’t spread to my cheeks and that somehow - inexplicably - Wesley had lost his lie detection powers after death. “You only _died._ After you’ve been to a hell dimension, I can start feeling bad for you.”

“Duly noted.” Wesley remarked drily. “So… what happened next?”

 

I cleared my throat. “By this time, Holtz had already gone to Quor’toth with Connor. We came across Angel in the middle of a heroic battle against Sahjohn, a time travelling, dimension hopping super-demon.”

“Super-demon?”

“He was eight, no ten, feet tall with a huge double bladed axe. Almost invincible. He could teleport and shoot lasers out of his eyes. The only reason we lived was he kept monologuing.”

Wesley sighed. “They never learn.”

“Sure don’t. Anyway he confessed the whole reason he wanted Angel dead is that there was some prophecy predicting Connor would end up killing him, yada yada yada. Upshot is, he couldn’t take Angel to Connor. We put him in an urn and hid it. Then, we went back to the hotel. We cleaned up. We grieved. There was a small funeral. Lots of moving speeches. Charles poured his bleeding heart out, the sap. Couldn’t keep himself from crying a few times.”

“I imagine… Charles was quite distraught.” Wesley threaded his fingers through mine and looked into my eyes. “I hope he’s feeling better now.”

I smiled back at him (okay, the blush had definitely spread to my cheeks now) “I’m sure he is. Anyway, let’s skip all the sappy stuff and get back to the excitement.”

“But,” Wesley’s face fell. “The _moving speeches_.”

“You can do without a bigger head, head boy.” I smirked. “Things only really picked up almost two and a half months later. We were at the Hotel, when we were visited by a mysterious stranger…”

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

“I’m sorry, Fred.” Willow mumbled. “We were all devastated to hear the news.”

I could feel my blood beginning to boil, my free hand curling into a fist. “If you’re so devastated, why can’t you help me? You raised one hero from the dead and she was gone _for almost a year_. It’s only been a few days.”

“He died by mundane means, Fred. The spell I used on Buffy required the target to die magically, and I don’t have the components any more. Besides which, he might be-”

“You’re no help at all!” I screamed. “Stay in Sunnydale. Have fun with _Buffy.”_ I slammed the phone down and resisted the urge to hurl it across the office. I paced back and forth across Wesley’s office, teeth gritted. There had to be a way. This was just one less idea to try.

 

  1. Have Willow resurrect him
  2. Watcher’s council could help?
  3. Multiverse - portal into a dimension where he survived
  4. Find the afterlife, jailbreak?
  5. Turn him into a vampire, then ensoul him
  6. Force Sahjohn travel back in time and save Wesley
  7. Fight my way through “the Trials”
  8. Ritual used by Wolfram & Hart for Darla?



 

I scowled as I crossed another line off the list. Willow had been almost as unhelpful as the Watcher’s council had been. They’d just given me some crap about “informing the family, sorry for your loss”. I collapsed onto Wesley’s desk and buried my face in my hands. The rest of my ideas were slightly longer shots. Number 5 was a bust, since we lacked Romani gypsies and it was too late to vamp Wesley anyway. The rest just required research. I turned around and fished out my index for Wesley’s books. One of them had to hold the answer to making one of the ideas work. They just had to. 

 

I heard a knock at the door.

 

“Come in!” I muttered.

The door creaked open and I glanced up: Lorne. “Hi, Fredikins.” Lorne bit his lip. “How are you?”

“Fine. Thanks.” I said reflexively, turning my attention back to the book. 

“Are you sure you aren’t hungry? Or, err… tired? You’ve been in here a few days now…”

“Not hungry.” I muttered, leafing through a few pages. “I have a blanket and pillow in here. I’ve been taking power naps.”

“Right. Well, err, we’re having dinner - want to join?”

“Not. Hungry.” I said, distracted. I felt my fingers trace the crackly old paper, following the lines of a particularly witty comment Wesley had made on the author’s writing style. Two weeks ago, I would have laughed at that.

“Are you sure?” Lorne almost pleaded. “It’s Tacos?”

 

My stomach rumbled. I glared at it. “Traitor.” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. I don’t need to eat. I need to… I just gotta fix this. Then I can take a break.”

“Okay.” Lorne murmured, and shuffled towards the door. “I’ll bring a plate in.” 

“Don’t bother.”

 

I buried myself in the readings. A few hours later, I came to the unsatisfactory conclusion that Wolfram and Hart’s ritual only raised things from Hell. Wesley wasn’t there. He couldn’t be there. I crossed out number 8. Back to the books.

 

Days passed, and theories were discussed and eliminated. Angel couldn’t enter the trials again, and I couldn’t survive them. We had no way to threaten Sahjohn into helping us and he could easily leave us in the prehistoric era. Weeks passed, and I came up with more. After months, these two were discounted. The work continued. I couldn’t give up on him.

 

“Hi, Fred.” Angel hovered in the doorway.

“Don’t sneak up like that.” I grumbled, leafing through a tome.

“Sorry.” Angel glanced at the pile of dirty plates - some meals devoured, others barely touched -that had stacked up in the time since Lorne had cleared them out.

“I’m not usually hungry. And you knew that before coming in.”

Angel looked embarrassed, hefting a small sack. “If there’s, anything you need, I’ll just be… out there. I’m gonna just drop off these books on the shelves and-”

“What?” I looked at him disbelievingly and stood up, removing my glasses. “No.”

“No?” Angel sagged, looking desperately uncomfortable.

“You know _Wesley_ organises the books. We don’t fully understand his system. He can do it once we bring him back.” I stared Angel down, daring him to say otherwise.

He hesitated. “Won’t it be… uncomfortable, for him to come back to a messy office?”

“He’ll cope with it. He likes his office messy Put the books in the other room with the rest of the new ones.” I’d been ordering in books for him: a nice surprise for when he came back. 

“Right.” Angel sighed, and turned to leave. “I think I’ll leave them here by the door. In case they’re helpful. To your research.”

“What are they about?” I demanded, suddenly focused on him. I put down the book I was holding carefully.

“Oh, I dunno. There’s a couple on dealing with the dead. Lingering dead, that kind of-”

 

“You should have led with that.” I snapped, marching over and snatching the small bag. “Are you any closer to finding Justine? Or contacting the Powers that Be?”

“No.”

“When you make progress, tell me.” I stared Angel down. He swallowed.

“Yes, ma’am.” He almost flew out the door, shutting it behind him.

 

I sighed: I could get things done a lot faster without dealing with these interruptions. I opened the bag and took out the top book:

 

‘Dealing with death: how to process your Grief and move on’

 

I growled softly, then hurled the book at the far well. It bounced off and fell onto a plate of uneaten tacos. 

I winced. “Sorry Wesley. I shouldn’t throw books.”

 

I turned around one of the frames on the desk and sighed. We’d been getting ice cream. Just the two of us. I’d eaten mine. Then his one. Then most of his second one. He was laughing at the camera - which I didn’t know was there - while I furiously demolished his second ice cream. It was all over my face. He looked so happy. I wiped away my solitary tear, and went back to the books.

 

“Fred?”

“Huh?” I jolted up from the desk, readjusting my glasses and blinking furiously. “Hi Charles.”

“Hey.” He shifted awkwardly. “Sorry, I did knock. Were you sleeping?”

“No.” I lied. “I was researching.”

He took a few steps towards me, expression hardening. “Fred. You need to get out of the office.”

“Wesley’s office. And don’t be stupid. I’m close.”

“No, Fred. You’re not.”

“Of course I am, don’t you trust me?” I sighed. “Nobody ever listens to me. I’m telling you, I am _this_ close-”

“THERE IS NO CLOSE!” He yelled, stunning me into silence. “He’s gone! He’s _dead._ I carried his coffin, Fred. I _buried_ him. I buried my best friend and that hurts like hell. He should be here, helping us, fighting evil alongside us-”

 

“Yes, he should be! That’s what I’m working on!” I yelled back, standing up. “Because apparently, I’m the only one who cares enough-”

“You’re deluded!” Charles yelled. “You’ve been cooped up in here for _months_. You refuse to leave. You’ve hardly eaten, you’ve barely slept, you’ve brushed us off whenever we come in-”

“Maybe if you didn’t try to subtly slip me books on ‘coping with grief’ I wouldn’t brush you off!” I yelled.

“Wesley is _dead._ He died trying to save Connor, and it _breaks_ me that that happened. But Wes wouldn’t you to shut yourself in his office and obsess over him!”

I huffed and crossed my arms. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not obsessing over him. I’m doing what he would do: helping. He would help us.”

“Wesley knew-”

“Knows.”

Charles grimaced and soldiered on. “-when to give up. He’s in a better place now Fred, if Buffy told the truth. A good place. Wrapped in happiness, joy, memories, _love._ ”

 

I stared at him for a few seconds. “We love him.” I said coldly. “Or at least, _I_ do. None of you seem to give a damn.”

“Oh, I give a damn. I care about his wishes. He wouldn’t want you in here-”

“Oh, you still want us to read the Will don’t you?” I interrupted him. “To divvy up his belongings? To give me “closure” so I can move on, and forget about him? Abandon him, like he didn’t abandon me, or you or any of us?”

Charles breathed deeply. “He isn’t coming back. He can’t come back.”

“He _will_ come back. I will bring him back, at any price, at any cost. That’s what love means, Charles. Being willing to do anything.”

“You’re right.” Charles sighed and stepped forwards, right up to the desk. “It’s being willing to do anything for another person.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “Even when the other person might hate you forever.”

“Wesley won’t hate me for-”

 

Charles reached out and grabbed my wrist, then started dragging me. I was pulled around the desk and towards the door, too shocked to resist. “Let go of me!” I yelled, desperately pulling on his arm. “Don’t you dare do this to me, Charles!”

“This is for your own good, Fred.”

“NO!” I screamed, digging my fingernails into the doorframe. “I’m not leaving him. I won’t. I _can’t._ ”

 

“Angel, get over here and help me!”

I twisted my head and saw Angel advancing towards me, grim expression. “Sorry, Fred. This is for your own good.”

I screamed angrily. “Lorne! Stop them!”

Lorne walked through the front door of the hotel, staring at his feet. “Car’s ready, Charles. Cordy’s waiting at the destination.”

 

“No!” I screamed, as Angel grabbed me and I lost purchase on the door frame. “I hate you! I hate all of you! Put me down!”

“You’ve been in that room two and a half months, Fred.” Angel said grimly. “This is for your own good.”

I struggled desperately, and then my eyes fell on the bags. Packed. One pile of my things, which Lorne was carrying outside. Another pile.

 

Wesley’s pile. Plus empty bags. Just enough to store every keepsake, memento, photo and book superfluous to Angel Investigations that I’d stopped them removing from his office. “Don’t you dare!” I sobbed, weakly. Tears only now beginning to pour forth. “HELP! SOMEBODY!” 

  
“Put her down, Angelus.” A calm, measured, very English and intimidating voice resonated. Angel and Charles stopped. I looked up. 

 

_“Fred?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“You’ve just been sitting there. Are you ready to start talking?”_

_“Yeah. Just, umm, one moment. Maybe two. Alright. A mysterious stranger: obviously it was a dark and stormy night.”_

_“Obviously. You said that five seconds ago.”_

_“Shut up, peanut gallery. This is about a a Watcher who came in from the cold…”_

 

Standing just inside the hotel lobby was a tall, middle-aged man with glasses and a piercing gaze. He had a stake in one hand and the other curled into a fist. “Or - unlike Buffy - I will gladly stake you.”

 

“Giles.” Angel whispered. “This is a shock. It’s not what it looks like.”

I kicked Charles in the shins, broke out of Angel’s weakened hold and backed away, towards Wesley’s office. “Oh?” Giles raised an eyebrow. “The screaming, crying unwashed girl who looks like she’s been held hostage in a small room for months without adequate food or sleep is being dragged around willingly?”

 

I scowled, one hand going up my hair. I didn’t look that bad. I glanced at the mirror and winced. Okay, it was close. “Angel, who is this guy?” Charles stood up straighter. “And where’s Lorne?”

“I’m Rupert Giles. Former watcher. Your demon friend is locked in the back of your getaway vehicle.”

Charles snarled and stepped forwards, but Angel put out a hand and held him back. “Why are you here, Giles?”

 

“I should think that was obvious. I came here for Wesley.” He looked directly at me and I felt vindicated. Finally. Someone who got it. “I worked with him in Sunnydale. I hear he matured since then. I was truly sorry to hear of his passing. Willow told me about your phone call, Angel. How Wesley died, trying to save your son. I’m here to get him back.”

 

I could have jumped for joy. Wesley was coming back, it was all going to be-

 

“Connor? You can save him?” Angel demanded.

“Connor is trapped in Quor’toth.” Giles continued. “I know how to get in, and out. I brought Buffy. If you can provide Faith, yourself and any other backup we can get him back.”

“No.” I whispered, walking up to Giles. “But what about… what about Wesley?”

Giles frowned and looked at me. “He’s dead. Nobody can bring him back. Nor should they even try. It’s better this way. Really, it’s-”

 

_“That’s it?”_

_“Yep. Giles showed up. They mounted an expedition to Quor’toth. Angel, Lorne, Groo, Buffy, Faith, Giles… quite the crew.”_

_“Nothing else interesting happened with Giles?”_

_“Nothing.”_

 

It felt truly satisfying to watch the expression on Giles’ face when I kicked him in the groin. It was only marginally less satisfying when I followed up by winding him, then shoving him over. Then things got blurry. I remembered being dragged away - kicking and screaming - and then the sound of Lorne singing a lullaby, followed by darkness.

 

I awoke on a bed. I sat up and glanced around, sagging with relief. Still at the Hyperion. I rolled to the edge of the bed: I had to get down there and show Giles my research, convince him to-

 

“Whoa, stop right there Fred.” A soft hand pushed back on my shoulder. I stiffened. “Cordy?”

She smiled at me, kneeling by the bed. “The one and only.”

“I have to get down there. Tell Giles-”

“Giles is gone.” Cordy said gently. “The gang are in Quor’toth by now, rescuing Connor. Groo went with them.”

I sniffled. “Cordelia. Did they tell you that he… that Wesley is…”

“Yes.” Cordelia smiled sadly, and wiped her eye. “He’s dead Fred. That means gone.”

“But,” I whispered. “He can’t be gone. He couldn’t leave. Not when I only just realised…”

“Realised what?” Cordelia asked gently.

“That I’m in love with him.”

 

Cordelia hugged me. I cried. I think she did too. It was easy to lose track. It felt like I cried for days on end.

 

I found out a few days later that Gunn _hadn’t_ gone to Quor’toth. Cordelia had told me I was on strict bed rest and I had decided to save my strength for later: once she promised me that she wouldn’t allow anyone to move or touch any of Wesley’s things. Gunn entered the room.

 

“You should knock.” I spat, glaring at him. “That’s an essential prerequisite to kidnapping someone.”

“Fred, I-”

“No.” I glared up at him. “You are done talking, Gunn. Not another word. Not one. I don’t want to hear an explanation of your actions, or about how sorry you are or how you don’t regret any of it. Right now, I’d like you to leave. Then I could pretend you’re in hell. Where I _wish_ you were.”

 

I knew I was being cruel. But in that moment, it felt so good to be cruel. To return the favour. He swallowed. “Fred, I-”

“You talked. You just lost Fred privileges. You don’t get to say my name. Or speak without being spoken to. And if you dare to say his name, if I even catch you _thinking_ it… then I’ll prove your belief that I’m crazy right and I will show you just how unhinged I can be.”

 

Gunn left the room. He didn’t come back. I was happy about that. At least, at the time. The regret came later.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

“So, Giles took everyone into Quor’toth?” Wesley shook his head. “That’s bold. Even for a ex-watcher.”

“Don’t worry.” I grinned at him. “Ex-Watchers have nothing on rogue demon hunters.” I pretended to swoon. Wesley went red as a tomato and I giggled.

Wesley swallowed, moved his jaw weakly before eventually managing. “And they got Connor back?”

“Yep. Came back a week later with Connor in hand.”

“And Holtz?”

“Oh, Giles killed him. Made some badass speech about looking after his own, how dare he strike down my comrade-in-arms. Everybody else got in some jabs. Angel could have sworn there was dramatic music playing. They may have stood in a circle. Drunk to your name. Killed the crap out of Holtz in revenge.”

“This is another moving speech about me that I won’t get to hear, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. They eventually got back with Connor: though at this point he was a few years older. Like, 4.”

“Of course: time moves differently in different dimensions.”

“Angel was a little peeved about missing a few years. I didn’t mind not having nappies to change. It did mean we lost our last cutie in the hotel.”

“Last?”

“Only cutie. He was the only one ever there.”

“Good to know. Where does the thrilling tale go next?”

“There were a few more things that happened. It turned out Gunn sold his soul for a truck, like an idiot.”

“A truck?”

“Yep. No air con.”

“Oh dear.”

“Now, we reach the grand finale. The final chapter: a tragic tale. The loss of a life so wonderful, and precious that the world itself was forever altered. The courageous Winifred Burkle was finally slain.”

“Sic Transit Gloria Mundi.” Wesley smiled at me.

Typical Wesley. Always with the latin. Thus passes… 

 

Thus Passes the glory of the world. I was definitely blushing. “That’s… quite a compliment. Do you tell all the dead girls that?”

“Only the glorious ones.”

“Oh. Well. Umm…” I racked my brain. “Where was I?”

“Your death.” Wesley gently rubbed my shoulder: it was comforting. I was seized by a strong desire to wrap this story up quickly.

“Right. A demon slug crawled down my throat. I got very thirsty. I felt very happy. Everybody hugged me. I died in the arms of my family.”

He paused. “If you don’t want to say any more, you don’t have to.”

“Nothing to say.” I blushed. “Nothing else happened. No, sir. Nothing happened.”

“Did your life flash before your eyes?”

I scoffed. “No. Such a lame excuse for a death. I barely got a hallucination at the end…”

“Hallucination?”

“That was a slip of the tongue. That’s the whole story. What I just told you. Nothing else. I’m saying nothing.”

“Well.” Wesley shook his head. “That was quite a story.”

“Why, thank you.” I smiled.

“I mean it felt a little blatantly fictitious at times,”

“Oh, shut up English.”

“And certainly anti-climatic. I really didn’t feel invested enough in this Fred character to care when she died.”

“Oh,” I looked at him and smiled. “You did _not_ just say that.”

“Well. She was just such a bland character. No depth.”

I snorted. “Bland? This coming from Captain Library Card.”

“I prefer to think of myself as a Rogue Demon Hunter.”  
“Now that is even more blatant a lie than anything I just said.”

“I knew it!” Wesley leaned in and jabbed me playfully with a finger. “I _knew_ you were lying.”

“Tell you what.” I leaned in and put my mouth next to his ear. “I’ll make it up to you.” 

 

I grabbed him and kissed him like nothing else mattered. He kissed me like I was the only thing that mattered. I hummed contentedly and melted into his arms. _Paradise._

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

The slug had crawled down my throat. It had felt horrible: wet and slimy and so very gross. Once it did… I lost control. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel. No pain. I could just about speak. Mostly it talked. They dragged me around for a little while, around the hotel. It was mostly a blur. Room after room. Them killing slugs. 

 

I could feel myself drifting ever since it crawled in. A strange hazy warmth had engulfed me. I felt so happy. So content. I heard Gunn accusing Angel, trying to take me out of the hotel. I saw the flash of light as Cordy destroyed the slugs. Everyone desperately trying to figure out how to get it out of me, talking furiously as I lay in the centre of the lobby. I wanted to tell them to get Wesley. He’d know how to save me. He always had the answers.

 

I giggled. I think that scared them. They looked scared. They shouldn’t have been. I was happy. Once they stopped fighting, I felt their embrace. Arms wrapped around me. I saw them crying: not that they should have. Couldn’t they see how content I was? Lorne and Angel. Cordy and Groo. They’d all run off pretty fast after that, tearing through Wesley’s office, desperately searching for anything to get the slug out. I wished they wouldn’t make such a mess of it. Just one person left.

 

“I’m here Fred,” He murmured. “I’m right here. I love you. I’m right here.”

“No you’re not.” I replied sleepily, suppressing a yawn as I blinked slowly. “You’re not here, Wesley.” I felt Wesley’s arms tighten around me and kept going. "They all told me you were gone. So you can’t be here. I tried so hard to bring you here but I couldn’t.”

I looked up at him and Wesley was crying. He shouldn’t have been. “It’s okay, Fred. You’ll be fine. They’re going to help you.”

“I don’t want their help.” I mumbled petulantly. “I feel _fine._ And you’re here. How come you only came when I was in danger? That’s really cheesy of you,”

Wesley choked. “I suppose I have always been a little over-dramatic.”

I snorted. “Gunn always made fun of you for that. I liked your drama though. It was endearing.”

He caressed my head slightly and I did my best to snuggle into him. It hurt to move. “I love you, Wesley. I really wanted to say that. Isn’t it a laugh? I figured it out too late. I was so stupid.”

“You’re very smart, Fred.” Wesley said, tightly. “And I love you too. I’m going to help you.”

“No!” I whined. “They want to keep me from you. Stay here.” My vision started blurring.

“Fred. Dammit, Fred keep your eyes open.” He whispered, voice breaking. “Fred. Please stay.”

“What’s it like where I’m going?” I asked dreamily. “Is it where you are?”

 

“It’s wonderful.” Wesley choked. “Everything is so beautiful. There’s sunsets. Rolling fields. Endless libraries. Ice cream. Tacos.”

“Are you gonna be there?” I breathed, barely daring to ask.

He pulled me into a tighter hug. “Yes. I’ll be there.”

Joy flooded through me and I hugged him tighter. “Wesley, can I ask a favour?”

“Anything.”

“I think I’m… about to check out. But you seem to be here, talking and all. I never got to say goodbye to Charles. Or that I was sorry. I was so mad at him. Can you tell him I’m sorry? I’m sorry I yelled. I’m sorry we didn’t work out. I’m sorry I’m leaving. I think he’ll be mad.”

Wesley broke down then, crying into my shoulder. “He’s not mad. He couldn’t be. He loves you, Fred.”

“I loved him too.” I sighed. “Once. Tell him to move on. I think that girl at the diner… really… likes… him.”

Wesley didn’t reply.

 

I saw them walking towards me. Angel. Cordy. Lorne. Groo. Gang all together. I sniffled. “I wish Charles was here. I… I love you all.”

“We love you too Fred.” Angel whispered. “All of us.”

I giggled. “Of course I know you do, you silly———”

 

I blinked. I was not at the Hyperion. I looked around. I was in a waiting room. Water feature. Tasteful flower decorations. I was sitting on a comfy sofa.

 

And printed on the wall directly in front of me in green letters were the words ‘Welcome! Everything is fine.’ I frowned, then gasped: I wasn’t thirsty! “Yes!” I laughed. “Take that you stupid slug.” I paused. I carefully thought through what had happened. Slug. Hotel. Charles… Wesley? “Well, gosh.” I sat up straight. “I’m _dead._ ” 

 

“Hi Winifred.” The door on my left opened. A kindly, elderly man smiled at me. “Come on in.”

 

 

**Charles**

 

Fred giggled, still clutching at me. “Of course I know you do, you silly—”

 

One last gasp of air escaped her mouth. She didn’t finish the sentence. Dammit, no.

 

Not both of them. My best friend. And Fred. It couldn’t be both of them. I collapsed forwards, still sobbing, tears burning down my cheeks. It shouldn’t have been both of them. 

 

She hadn’t even _recognised_ me.


	3. DisOrientation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred has her introductory meeting with Michael about the Good Place, and the neighbourhood residents undergo orientation, which reveals an interesting fact about the people in the Good Place.

Chapter 3: DisOrientation

 

**Fred**

 

I gingerly closed the door behind me and turned back to face Michael. The room I was in was… strange. Lovely carpet: the fluffy looking kind that made you want to kick off your shoes and curl your toes in it. Michael was sitting behind a large wooden desk, edges covered in piles of paperwork and stacks of ring binder folders. The room had no lightbulbs, but was somehow perfectly illuminated by two shafts of sunlight beaming in through the windows. I felt the warmth on my face and smiled despite myself, closing my eyes for a second. I inhaled deeply: the room smelt of fruit. Strawberry, maybe?

 

Michael cleared his throat, smiling apologetically and gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk.

 

“Oh!” I smiled nervously and quickly sat down in the chair, sinking into it like it was a cloud. I took one last look around the office: apart from the tasteful decor I already noticed, some of the furnishings were… strange. An oil painting of a man who - if my years at college were anything to go by - was extremely stoned and the strangest collection of mismatched objects I’d seen since I’d visited Wesley’s room for the first time, most of them random mundane objects pristinely arranged in a cabinet: a set of suspenders, a row of bow ties… and in pride of place on the desk, a whole tray of paperclips. What in the world would-

 

“Hi Winifred.” Michael smiled brightly, waving a hand in front of his face. 

I jumped and turned back to face him, grinning awkwardly. “Hi Michael.”

“How’s your day been?”

I hesitated. Gross demon slugs. Gross demon slug in my throat. Hallucinating Wesley. Embarrassing myself in my final moments on Earth.

 

Seeing Wesley.

 

“It’s been a mixed bag.” I replied carefully. “Yourself?”

“Oh, its been a little busy. People to meet, work to do, yada yada yada. But that’s enough about me, let’s talk about you Winifred.”

“Fred! Please.”

“Sure, Fred it is.” Michael plucked a folder off the nearest stack and opened it in front of him. I peered at the page. There were a few photos of me, accompanied by some writing that was definitely not in any human language.

“Sorry. I just kinda want to make sure. Am I, y’know…” I trailed off awkwardly and looked at him.

Michael nodded sympathetically. “Yes, Miss Burkle. I am afraid you are dead. Your life on Earth has ended and you are now in the next phase of your existence in this universe.”

“Right.” I nodded. “What do you need to me do now?”

Michael blinked. “Umm…”

“Do I have to do some paperwork? Is there an application form? Do I need references? What about-”

 

“Relax, Fred.” Michael chuckled. “Everything’s decided. You’re right where you belong.”

“Ahh. Which is…?”

“The Good Place.”

“Is that heaven?”

“Heaven’s close. It’s an afterlife for good people. And before you hit me with the trademark Winifred modesty, I’m gonna get ahead of you and point out that you were always selfless in life, you helped others at every turn and ah, what’s the quote ‘were a ray of sunshine in the lives of all who knew you’.” He raised an eyebrow. “Anything modest or self-deprecating to say?”

“Umm…” I frowned, floored.

“Great stuff. I’m sure you have lots of questions.”

 

“Actually, yes. Is this another dimension?”

“Yes. But not one accessible from Earth. I mean, we had one minor breach a while back but we patched up the hole and that can’t happen again.”

I nodded, then kept going. “How does this work? Is Heaven like a big city? Or am I on a cloud… ooh, do the laws of physics still apply here?”

“Imagine many, countless separate neighbourhoods. A few hundred people in each, selected to perfectly compliment each other. Not on a cloud… and the laws of physics mostly apply here.”

“Mostly?”

“I could - if I wanted - design a new set of laws for this neighbourhood, but that tends to confuse the residents. I leave that kind of risky showboating to the amateurs.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Amateurs?”

“Oh, amateur Architects. We’re the beings who manage this part of the afterlife. Design neighbourhoods, select members, manage the transition. I’m still relatively new, but I’ve learned the ropes.”  


“This part?” I questioned, mind lighting up with the possibilities. “How many sections are there?”

“Oh, thousands of neighbourhoods here.” Michael said enthusiastically. “Hundreds of different dimensions with positive after-lifes. Even more, ah, unpleasant final residences… every individual is assigned to the section of the afterlife that perfectly suits them.”

 

I frowned. “Oh. So… not all good people end up in the same place?”

Michael chuckled. “Oh, no. That would be a catastrophe. Recipe for disaster.”

“Right.” I had a steady sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “How many people are there in his neighbourhood?”  
“As of you? Two-hundred and ninety-nine. Last resident should be arriving shortly.”

 

Three-hundred people. In all of creation. The chances of Wesley being here were… impossibly small. “I don’t suppose there’s visitation between neighbourhoods?”

“Sure there is.” My hopes soared. “Once we’re through the standard transition period of four-hundred years.”

“Four-hundred years?” I felt my voice squeak. “Why?”

“Your soul has been on a quite rigorous journey to get here.” Michael explained. “The trauma of leaving the body is extensive, and travelling through inter-dimensional space even more so. Attempting to move between dimensions without giving your soul time to adjust to its new state would probably end in…”

“Death?” I raised an eyebrow.

“More like utter, complete cessation of existence.”

“Oh. That sounds bad.”

“Yeah, it’s a killer. Why, somebody you think is waiting for you?”

 

Wesley, who felt so unable to trust me that he’d felt the need to charge into the night and die? I can’t imagine he wanted to see me. “Oh, umm… no. Nobody in particular. I don’t suppose you can make phone calls between afterlifes?”

“Afraid not. You wouldn’t believe how much the Powers that Be charge for inter-dimensional communication.” He looked at my face and back peddled swiftly. “That was just a little joke there. But, no. No phone service.”

 

I nodded thoughtfully. “Am I allowed to ask what’s been happening on Earth?”

“Sure. It’s been about a month since you passed away… any particular questions?”

“Are all my friends still alive?”

“Yes.” Michael nodded sympathetically. “There was a very moving funeral service. They were devastated, but they’re starting to process it. They already saved the world again.”

“Pfft. Typical. I’m gone for one month and an apocalypse comes around.”

Michael chuckled. “And, and get this. They needed help from alawyer to save the world.”

“No way.”

“Yep! Some crazy vigilante from Wolfram & Hart went rogue and helped Angel stop an apocalypse. Crazy stuff.”

I shook my head disbelievingly. “Are my… are my parents alright?”

Michael hesitated. “They’re… they’re managing. They’ll do better.”

“Don’t suppose there’s any chance of a visit? I could console them?”

Michael looked me dead in the eyes. “No.” He said, and for the first time since he confirmed I was dead, he sounded very serious and very final.

“I had to ask.” I murmured.

“Of course.” He replied gently, then drummed his fingers on the table.

“What happens now?” I asked.

 

“Well, you’ve got to get to orientation. That’ll explain how things work around here in general. Then you have about, oh I dunno, a few billion years to relax, kick back and do anything you want.”

“Really? Anything?” I hesitated. “Can I have my own lab?”

Michael chuckled. “Fred, you can have _anything_. Right. Say the following word: J A N E T.”

 

I frowned. “Janet?”

A woman materialised next to me, standing up. “Hi, Fred.”

“Hi… Janet.” I looked at Michael. He nodded at Janet encouragingly. “Umm… who are you Janet?”

“I’m not really a who. I’m like… a non-sentient being assigned to help residents of this neighbourhood. I can get you anything you ask me or give you information about almost anything in the universe. Go ahead, try.”

“Oh. Err…” I wracked my brain desperately. “Can I please have… a recent physics journal?”

“Here you go.” Janet seemed to produce one from mid-air and handed it to me. I blinked.

 

“That… that should not be possible.”

Michael shrugged. “That’s one of the miracles of the Good Place. It’s almost a living thing. Me and Janet can both influence it… shape a neighbourhood. But once that’s done, our control is limited. Besides, who’s to say it didn’t just rearrange and restructure some atoms from somewhere else?”

I hesitated. “Sure. Ok. Let’s go with the second one.”

 

“Page eighty-five.” Michael smiled.

I raised an eyebrow and flipped it to the page. No way.

 

My article. On Symmetry. I scanned it: my notes. Transcribed and compiled, but they were mine. And I was credited! I may have let out a slight squee. I turned to the back of the - _my_ \- article.

 

‘ _In loving memory of Winifred Burkle, one of the wonderful mysteries of the universe.’_

 

I sniffled. Janet handed me a cloth. “Thanks, Janet.” I dabbed at my eyes. I looked back at the journal, then at Michael. “How?”

“Angel Investigations compiled your notes. Then they used some goodwill they had on the Watcher’s council - through familial connection I believe - to make sure it got a fair hearing by the journal board despite its unpolished state. They loved it.”

 

I smiled. “That’s lovely. And the line is so sweet: that must have been Lorne, right? Only he was that much of a softie.”

Michael glanced at his folder. “No, actually. The part describing you is actually a quote from the journal of another member of your team. I don’t have the name here… I think he was English?”

A smile ghosted my lips. Wesley. I looked at Janet. “Do you… have his diaries?”

“Yes. Would you like them?”

Michael raised an eyebrow.

 

I flushed. “I just… I miss him. They would help.”

He nodded. “Leave them at Fred’s house, Janet. Now.” He smiled. “If you’ll head out that door and follow the signs for orientation, I have one last resident to welcome. I’ll catch up to you later: go mingle!”

 

“Thanks, Mike.”

He winced. “Michael… Michael is fine.”

“Oh. Sure. Sorry. Janet, would you take the science journal too?”

“Of course.” Janet took it and winked out of existence. “That definitely shouldn’t be possible.” I frowned, subconsciously biting my lip as I opened the door, trying to work out how anything Janet did made any sense within the laws of physics.

 

I heard a strangled gasp and looked up. Sitting on the sofa, arms and legs extended at ridiculous angles, was Wesley.

 

My mouth dropped open. Oh, lord, I must look a state but… _Wesley._ First he’d been dead. Then _I_ was dead, only to find out he was almost definitely in one of a million other heavenly realities where he didn’t have to deal with my irritating presence and really what were the odds he’d show up after me, considering he died first and was always so punctual, really this was…

 

I mentally cut myself off and focused on taking a few nervous steps forward. I examined him closely. Messy hair? Check. Gleaming eyes? Check. Rugged good locks?

 

Triple check.

 

“Is that…” I felt by breath hitch, but soldiered on. “Is that really you?”

He plastered the snarkiest, know-it-all, _adorable_ grin on his face and asked casually, like he’d just stepped out of a taxi. “Who else would I be?”

 

And he was going to pay for that nonchalance. He really was. Later. At length. As soon as I was done hugging him, pulling him close and holding him so tightly the world wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ rip us apart again.

 

I didn’t know what Wesley wanted. But I had certainly waited too long to waste any more time. I was going to tell him. I was gonna go right ahead and say-

 

Then he - hesitantly, nervously, chivalrously - returned the hug in a way that was so quintessentially Wesley that I decided words could wait a little while longer.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Wesley**

 

Fred slowly broke off the kiss, then moved to rest her forehead against mine. Wow. That was… incredible. Magnificent. Everything I’d imagined it would be.

 

“Why?” I murmured, gazing into her eyes. “After everything I did?”

Fred smiled and shook her head. “Eternity is far too long for me to hold grudges.”

I had to say it. “Fred, I… I’m so sorry. For not trusting you. If I had, I might still be alive. You might be too…”

Fred snorted. “I really doubt Holtz would’ve given up that easy. Or that the time-travelling snark demon would have thrown in the towel. It could have happened at any time, Wesley. That was the nature of the life we led. I’m not going to hold a grudge against you for trying to save Connor.”

“You should.”

 

Fred shook her head. “Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, what am I going to do with you? You know what you need?”

“What?” I asked, noting with suspicion the way the corner of her mouth quirked upwards into a naughty smile and feeling a not entirely unpleasant chill running up my spine.

“You need to _relax._ ” Her eyes gleamed. “I can help with that.”

 

She leaned back towards me and I shut my eyes, unable to keep the widest smile I’d ever cracked from spreading across my face because I was the luckiest man in the universe, because I was about to kiss _Winifred Burkle._

 

“Hello, everyone!” Michael’s voice boomed. I started, involuntarily shifting away from Fred. Fred did the same, and we shared a look. She giggled. I chuckled. “I feel like a teenager again.” Fred whispered, threading her fingers into mine.

“I feel like the luckiest man in the universe, dead or alive.” I whispered back, and the smile she gave me felt like purest sunshine.

 

“Guess this thing is on.” Michael’s voice rang out. Scattered laughter came from the seats around us. “We should probably pay attention to this.” I muttered, shifting to the side of my seat nearest Fred.

“Oh, definitely.” Fred agreed shifting closer to me, then moved to rest her head on my shoulder looking at the stage. Warmth rapidly spreading through me, I turned to the stage.

 

“Welcome, everyone, to the Good Place!” Michael spread his arms wide and smiled. “You all know where ‘here’ is. But why are you here? Well, the simple truth is you were all _wonderful_ people. You led extraordinary lives: you helped others. Some of you saved lives. At least one of you even saved the world. As good people, you get to go to a good afterlife: but why this one specifically? Why this neighbourhood?”

 

“As a few of you have already been told, the three-hundred of you have been selected as individuals who perfectly complement each other: a recipe for an eternal, blissful community.” Then Michael’s smile broadened. “But that’s not the whole truth. We didn’t select three-hundred people, so much as we selected one-hundred and fifty pairs of people: one-hundred and fifty pairs of soulmates. That’s right, Soulmates exist.”

 

I stiffened, and slowly turned my head to look at Fred. She looked just as shocked as me. Michael had already mentioned the chances of us being here together were infinitesimally small… two people who knew each other in life, who had… unspoken feelings, randomly assigned to the same afterlife of only three hundred people? Now it made sense. Why I’d been waiting in the afterlife equivalent of storage until today: could I have been right? Were me and Fred really… meant to be?

 

“Now, a soulmate relationship can be anything. Romantic, platonic or anything in-between! That’s up to you to work out.” I let out a strangled gasp as Fred slowly began planting kisses on my collarbone. Then up my neck. 

 

“So, I suppose what I’m saying is, welcome to eternal happiness!”

 

Fred put one hand behind my head and pulled it down towards her. “I love you.” She whispered.’

I was indescribably happy. I was in a dream. The whole world had fallen into place. “I love you too. More than anything.” I moved to kiss her.

She pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “More than stuffy old books?” 

I stared deep into her eyes. “Much, much more.” I leaned in to kiss her-

 

There was a popping noise, like the air pressure had just changed. I blinked. Fred was _gone_. I looked around: it looked like almost half of the people in the seating had disappeared. From the way everyone was looking around, they hadn’t been expecting this.

 

“Sorry about this.” Michael smiled naughtily. “This is my guilty pleasure. One half of every soulmate pair has been moved to your new homes. I always find this heightens the anticipation. Trust me, the wait will be worth it. I’m going to start escorting you to your new homes. Individually. I’m going in alphabetical order, by first name: Astrid, this way please. A tall, blonde woman stood up sheepishly and walked towards the stage. “I’ll be back for the rest of you in time!” Michael yelled. “Just be patient. You have all the time in he universe.”

 

I let out a frustrated sigh. This was typical. Even in heaven, me and Fred couldn’t share a moment without something coming up and ruining it. For once however, I was relieved that Fred wasn’t here: If she had still been here after Michael said the pairs were split up…

 

Well. She couldn’t be. We both belonged here. Together.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Fred**

 

I huffed impatiently as the video feed of Michael clicked off. Typical. Just typical. I flopped down onto the sofa and sighed. I picked up the pamphlet on the coffee table ‘Your new home’. I skimmed it, waiting impatiently.

 

_Welcome to your new home! This house has been designed and decorated according to the exact wishes of the soulmate couple who occupy it. If anything is not just the way you’d like it, feel free to ask Janet for help redecorating. This home includes, in addition to luxury amenities:_

 

_A fully stocked library, with comfy reading chairs._

_A science lab, complete with all the latest equipment and a computer suite._

 

I re-read the line. My own lab? I dropped the pamphlet and stood up, surveying the room more fully. This was clearly some kind of entry room: comfy chairs and a sofa, small coffee tables. A corridor led further into the house, and a set of spiral stairs snaked upwards to the next floor. I hummed contentedly: If I was designing a house, where would I put the science lab? I set off towards the back of the house, opening every door I passed.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Wesley**

 

This was getting ridiculous. I was the last person here. Michael had led everyone else away: I was sitting here twiddling my thumbs, trying not to panic and trying to think of something witty to say to Fred when we reunited. I suppose one out of three wasn’t bad. “Wesley!” Michael’s voice rang out. I glanced up. He was standing at the far end of the seating area, waving me over with a huge grin on his face. “No rush.”

 

Oh, but there was. I scrambled to my feet and jogged over to him. Michael chuckled. “Somebody’s keen.”

“Very.” I nodded emphatically. 

Michael started walking. “So. Do you want an introduction to your soulmate?”

I smiled, hand moving up to trace the line of kisses Fred made along my neck, remembering the warmth of her embrace. “I think I already know enough.”

Michael chucked and patted me on the back. “That’s the spirit. Formidable bravery. Then again, considering your soulmate I really shouldn’t be surprised.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. “Anything I should know about them?” I raised an eyebrow.

Michael smiled, and surreptitiously looked around, then dropped his voice. “Well… I can tell you, strictly in confidence, that if we go by the scoring system’s point totals, she’s by far and away the best person in the entire neighbourhood.”

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Fred**

 

The lab was _amazing_. Every instrument or piece of equipment I could want. All arranged in the perfect layout. There were even lab coats hung up by the door in my size. The library had been equally impressive: huge windows that let in the gorgeous sunlight, chairs so comfortable you melted into them and a collection of books that, given how perfect everything else in the house was, I was sure would impress Wesley. I swiped the science journal with my article in it while I was there.

 

The furniture and decor were all tasteful, the cupboards stocked with ingredients for our favourite food (and a cookbook composed entirely of recipes for our favourite meals: some of Wesley’s looked a little exotic, which was pleasantly surprising). The bedroom was also beautiful, though I’d flushed bright red when I found a post-it note stuck on the surprisingly small bed: ‘Perfect for cuddling — M’.

 

Now I was back by the front door, sitting on the sofa, trying to resist the urge to pace nervously. I grinned, coming up with an idea. I picked up a pen off the table, flicked to the end of my article and signed it. I rushed to the bedroom, left it on Wesley’s side of the bed (or what was going to be his side of the bed, since there was no way I was going to be changing the side I slept on in a perfect afterlife) and returned to the door. 

 

I was starting to wish I’d kept the article so I’d have something to read when I heard footsteps approaching the door. I listened carefully, just about picking up Michael saying. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help with the first meeting? Yes, of course. I’ll leave. Have fun!” Receding footsteps. I returned to my reclined position on the sofa, fixed on my brightest smile and looked at the door as it swung open.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Wesley**

 

The house was certainly impressive from the outside. A beautiful garden, large windows, some balconies. I couldn’t wait to see what was inside. Or rather, to see _who_ was inside. Again. Already, I keenly felt a Fred-shaped hole at my side. Michael stopped at the front door and turned to me, looking concerned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help with the first meeting?”

I shook my head and breathed in deeply.

He nodded sagely. “Yes, of course. I’ll leave. Have fun!”

 

With one last wave, Michael rushed off.

 

I breathed in again deeply. Was it hot? It felt hot.

 

“Don’t be such a coward, Wesley.” I muttered. “It’s not like this is a demon you’re dealing with.” Although the simplicity of a demon might be preferable here. I grabbed the door handle, pushed down and stepped through in one clean motion. I only got the briefest look at the room: a high ceiling, sofas, coffee tables, some plants. My focus was immediately stolen by the person in the room, currently lounging on the sofa.

 

I shook my head slowly. This was all too much to process. No, impossible to comprehend. It didn’t make any sense. “I must be dreaming. This is a _nightmare._ ”

“Stop right there.” Lilah Morgan sat up, looking at me with an expression of abject horror and confusion. “That’s _my_ line.”


	4. Estranged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confronted with their 'soulmates' Wesley and Fred try to work out what happened, while preparing for Michael's induction party.

This… this wasn’t _possible._

 

It should be Fred. It _had_ to be Fred. Fred, who I’d loved almost since I’d first spoken with her. Who‘d forgiven everything I’d done, and told me that she loved me. It had been the remotest, smallest chance in the universe that we’d find each other in exact same neighbourhood of the unlimited afterlife. That we’d reconciled, confessed our love. Learned about _soulmates_. Looked into each other’s eyes and known, finally, that this time there was no mistake. And then she’d been whisked away.

 

And I was standing here, looking at Lilah Morgan. Queen evil bitch. Among the most amoral, duplicitous and depraved individuals we’d ever had the misfortune to come across. In Heaven. In front of me. And apparently she was my soulmate. And the best person in this Afterlife? The afterlife that Fred currently inhabited? This was a screw-up. When Michael had teleported everyone, he’d accidentally summoned Lilah from hell and put her here. What other explanation could there be?

 

“You,” I choked. “You… _can’t_ be here.”

Lilah raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the sofa. “Excuse me? This is my house. You’re the one who stormed in without so much as knocking. Plus, _I_ was here first.”

I blinked, momentarily stunned. 

 

Lilah sighed. “You know, I was hoping I’d get paired up with someone at least _slightly_ more interesting than sliced bread. But no. I get the tragically deceased, nerdy ex-leader of Angel Investigations. Captain Library Card. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, since I’m apparently stuck in an afterlife with boring nice people who spent their lives rescuing kittens and kissing babies.”

I almost choked. Why did everyone keep calling me Library card? Coming from Fred it had been endearing. From Lilah? Not so much. “Well, you’re a disappointment too if that helps you feel any better.” I replied acidly. “Though personally, I hope it doesn’t. Besides you shouldn’t even _be_ here. Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere a little warmer? Pits of lava? Demons stabbing you with rusty pitchforks? Eternal agony and torment?”

 

Lilah smiled broadly, standing up. “Much as you’d like to be rid of me, Wesley, I’m afraid I have just as much a right to be here as you. More, actually, going by the scoring system.”  
“That’s rubbish.” I snorted. “There must have been some mistake.”  
“Really? Want to see my score? I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. How do we go about doing this?”  


Lilah snorted. “Stands to reason you’d be clueless about how to operate. Janet?”

A woman appeared out of thin air between us. “Hi, Lilah.”

“Hi Janet. Me and Wesley want to see each other’s score breakdowns. Can you bring them up?”

Janet smiled broadly, still speaking in the same slightly robotic tone. “I just need Wesley’s approval.”  
“Oh what the hell, just do it.” Maybe I could spot some discrepancy in Lilah’s record, proof she’d faked her way in.

 

Two green boxes flashed up in midair in front of us, each with a white number stencilled inside. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce: 923,872 points. Lilah Morgan: 1,108,231 points.

 

“What?” I demanded, looking furiously between Lilah and the score. “You’re evil. You can’t have a score this high. You can’t be here!”

“Why?” Lilah smirked.

 

_Because it should be Fred_.

 

“Because… you’re just… the worst.” I said, lamely. I had no desire to give Lilah ammunition to use against me.“Janet, can you break down Lilah’s score?”

“Sure! Would you like it organised by magnitude of deeds, or time?”

“Time, please.”

 

The green box elongated out into a list of bright red boxes, each with a number stencilled on - all negative - and a description next to it. I experimentally reached out and swiped upwards. The boxes moved upwards like I was scrolling on a computer, more red boxes moving up to fill the space. All bad deeds. “Jesus christ… got serial killer out of jail on a technicality… slaughtered an innocent tribe of demons who had made their home on a rich piece of land… emotional manipulation… berated janitor… sacrificed kittens to the Dark Lord Ulgrash…”

“That one I feel bad about.” Lilah sighed. “They were so cute. Made skinning them alive and eating the raw hearts that much harder.”

 

I found a green box and glanced at it. 10 points. “Killed Billy Blim. Reduced credit given because he was killed primarily out of vengeance. Also, was originally responsible for releasing him, knowing full well of his capabilities.”

“Man, shooting him felt _so_ good.” LIlah nodded.

 

“This is all just…” I scrolled past numerous atrocities, too many to mention, committed in service to Wolfram & Hart. I spotted a box marked ‘rude to waiters, x 2200’ and shook my head disbelievingly. “You’re an awful person.”

“Mostly.” Lilah nodded. “Now skip to the end.”

 

I scrolled all the way to the bottom. One green box: ‘Sacrificed own life to prevent an apocalypse, directly saving the lives of Charles Gunn and Angel, indirectly saving two billion lives, reasons were selfless… 2,000,000 points.’

 

“This is your one good deed?” I said, disbelievingly. “You do _one_ good thing and that makes up for all the terrible things you did?”

“I’m not saying that.” Lilah smiled and spread her arms out. “The _Universe_ is! Thank you, Universe!” She glanced at me and frowned. “Also, Universe, I’d like to return this soulmate, I think it’s defective. Can I get, like, a hot figure skater? Or anyone else really, I’m not picky. Just not… this.”

“I’m going to find Michael.” I growled, preparing to walk out the door. “Janet, where’s Michael?”

 

“He’s out of this dimension currently.” Janet replied. “Gathering some supplies for the induction party tonight. You can always meet him there?”

I hesitated. “How many hours is it?”

“Four.” 

I slumped: I had to deal with Lilah Morgan for four hours?

 

“What’s the matter, Wesley?” Lilah smirked. “Cat got your tongue? Ooh maybe, your throat is still sore, on account of it being sliced open. Fancy a lozenge?”

I drew a deep breath, then stalked further into the house, looking for someone I could get changed and try to pretend Lilah Morgan didn’t exist for the next few hours. Once I’d spoken to Michael, we could clear up this whole situation and Fred and I could be together.

 

Unless her soulmate was the real deal, and I was the only one incapable of being loved. I could imagine them now, opening the door to say Hi to Fred. Attractive, smart, kind, good-hearted, funny…

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Fred**

 

“Hi.”

 

I blinked and rubbed my eyes. This wasn’t right. The person who’d come in wasn’t Wesley. But that didn’t make sense. We… we were supposed to be together. That’s what I’d figured out after he died, it was my epiphany. And then I’d got here and he’d been here waiting (Or I guess technically I’d been waiting since he’d been kept on ice) and we’d talked and fallen back into that easy, beautiful camaraderie and we’d kissed and it had been amazing. Wonderful, even blissful.

 

And then we’d been split up and I found out soulmates existed - which explained why we’d somehow ended up in the same neighbourhood, considering the minuscule odds - and my soul mate had arrived and it wasn’t him. They weren’t even a _he_.

 

She was definitely very pretty. Jet black hair, dark eyes, full lips, a curvaceous figure… smoky olive skin, a tasteful jumper and skirt combination. 

 

“Hi.” I replied, realising I’d been silent for a few seconds. I stood up, looking back at her. She looked as confused as I felt. “I’m Winifred Burkle. Everyone calls me Fred.”

“Hi, Fred.” The woman lurked awkwardly next to the door. “I’m Jenny. Jenny Calendar.”

“That’s a nice name.” I said, on reflex.

 

We stood there awkwardly a few more seconds, then Jenny blurted out. “I’m not into women. I mean. I can tell you’re pretty and you seem sweet, but it’s just… I’m not…”

“Me neither!” I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God I hadn’t had to drop that bombshell. 

“Oh.” Jenny blinked. “Not even a little?”

 

I flushed. “No, no. I’m… no. I mean, wow, you’re beautiful and I’m sure the guys go nuts over you but… not my type. Y’know, because, straight.”

“Well, same here.” Jenny frowned, shutting the door behind her and stepping in. “Could we be in denial?”

I shook my head vigorously. “I… really don’t think so. Umm.” 

Jenny snapped her fingers. “Did Michael say something about platonic soulmate relationships?”

“Ooh, yes! He did! He said the relationship could be anything.”

“Huh. Maybe we’re meant to be best friends?”

“Maybe.” I said, fighting down the wave of unhappiness rising inside me. Jenny seemed really nice but… she wasn’t Wesley. 

 

Oh God, Wesley must have met his soulmate. I bet she was beautiful and smart and didn’t trip over her words or come with mental baggage from going to hell or ramble endlessly and end up getting stuck on long meandering trains of thought that never seemed to stop and just kept-

 

“Shall we sit down?” Jenny asked tentatively.

“Oh, sure.” I sat back down. 

Jenny sat next to me. “Do you want a drink?” She asked.

“Oh, no. I’m fine.”

“Sure. Janet, can I please have a coffee?”

Janet materialised and handed Jenny a steaming mug. She took an experimental sip, then did a double take. “Damn, this is perfect.” Then she rolled her eyes, set down the mug and slapped her forehead. “I guess of course it is, because you know, heaven.”

 

“Yeah.” I fidgeted.

“Well if we’re going to be besties, we should probably learn a bit more about each other?” Jenny suggested.

“Good idea!” I smiled weakly.

Jenny smiled sympathetically. “Where are you from?”  
“Texas, Dallas.”

“Sweet, I’m from a Gypsy tribe in Romania. Your turn.”

“What did you do for a living?” 

“I was a High school computer science teacher in California.”

“Ooh! I think you’re the reason why there are so many computers in the science lab at the back of the house.”

Jenny’s mouth dropped open. “We have a lab? Show me now!”

“Sure!”

 

I showed Jenny to the lab, where she proceeded to geek out over the computers. “Technology has come a really long way since I died.” She muttered, examining one of the computers.

“How long were you in storage for?” I asked, curious.

“Four years. Yourself?”  
“Just a month.”

“Ah. I think I might be the longest stored person in this place. Say, you never told me what you did for a living.”

“I studied physics for a few years. Then I ended up in a hell dimension…”

 

Jenny spun round to face me, shocked. “You knew about the supernatural? In life? Same here!”

“Wow, what are the odds?” I smiled and shook my head. “After I got rescued from that other dimension, I joined a team dedicated to saving people from demons and the like. We helped the helpless!”

“Nice.” Jenny nodded. “I kind of worked tangentially with a group like that. It was meant to go further but…” She shrugged, and drew her fingers across her throat.

“Who did you work with?” I asked, curious.

“Oh, they called themselves the Scoobies. The slayer Buffy, Willow, Xander…”

“No way! You must know Angel!” I smiled. “He founded the group I worked for, serving as a Champion. I mean, eventually Wesley took over running it but Angel was the original…”

 

Jenny stiffened and glared at me with a shocked expression. “You work for Angel?” She took a step away. “But… he’s evil.”

“No!” I gushed. “No, no, no. He’s a vampire sure. Used to be evil! Then he got a soul. I mean he lost it for a while, but he got it back and everything’s fine!”

Jenny shook her head and smiled bitterly. “Not everything. During that… period where he lost his soul for the second time, he killed me. While I was working on a spell to re-soul him.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah, it was rough.” She looked up at me, alarmed. “He’s not here, is he?”

“No! Nonono he’s still alive… or dead, I guess, but on Earth. Not here.”

Jenny visibly relaxed. “That’s a relief. I really don’t want to have to deal with those memories right now.”

 

We pottered around the lab a little more, chatting and getting to know each other. Eventually, we sat down at the table in the dining room and asked Janet for lunch. She’d brought me some sinfully delicious tacos, while Jenny had munched through a gigantic burger. We’d swapped and shared some food, and I’d found both dishes to be delicious. 

 

“So.” Jenny pushed her plate away and lent back in her chair. “Were you expecting to see anyone in particular here? I know I was, honestly.”

Wesley. I shut my eyes for a second, remembering the way he’d looked at me earlier today, like I was the most precious thing in the world. Those deep, serious eyes that could soften in a moment to such genuine love or such pure humour. The rumpled hair. I had to believe that this had been some kind of mistake: Jenny was _lovely_ but… she wasn’t Wesley. And he was right here. Or at least, very close. I’d have to find Michael tonight and talk to him about this.

 

_Unless_ , a tiny part of me whispered, _you think he’s perfect but he doesn’t think you are. What if he found someone better?_

 

For a half-second, I was jerked back to the vicious, mortifying speech Gunn had made to me, not long ago, before he left to sell his soul. He hadn’t meant any of it: he’d been trying to protect me. But every word he’d said had been calculated to play off my own securities, to amplify all my fears. And it had worked. I’d cried in that office for hours, in the first time I’d really lost focus on helping Wesley in weeks. Even now the words nibbled at me, reminding me of just how much happier Wesley might be with somebody else.

 

“No.” I smiled, hoping she didn’t know me well enough to see it was fake. “I was dating someone, but it didn’t work out. And he’s still alive, anyways. What about you?”

Jenny sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. “There was one man. We were so different. He was uptight where I was wild, he was old and stuffy and loved to stay cloistered in libraries… so I dragged him out to football games and monster truck rallies.”

 

I tried to imagine Wesley at a monster truck rally and giggled at the picture. “What was his name?”

“Rupert.” Jenny smiled. “God, it was a hard road. And right when we’d resolved everything… in comes Angelus.”

I nodded sympathetically. “I know the feeling.”  
“Oh? It took you and your boyfriend a while to start dating?”

 

I hesitated. Everything had been easy with Charles. Effortless. And we’d sometimes shared in that happy, effortless bliss. But once Wesley had been gone, Charles hadn’t understood how much I needed him back. How I couldn’t leave the people I cared about stranded. He’d started to pull away… or maybe I had? And the days had always been dimmer without Wesley in them, to laugh or make a scathing comment or rally us to battle. It was hard to love when your life felt like it was lacking sunlight.

 

“Kinda.”

“Oh! Jenny smacked her forehead. “I’m an idiot. I was meant to tell you about a party being thrown tonight by Michael to welcome everyone. It’s in,” Jenny checked a pretty clock hung on the wall. “Just under three hours.”

A party! That could be fun. Wesley might be there. Michael would be. I could ask Michael about our soulmate situation, clarify that it was all a big misunderstanding. Jenny would get her perfect match and I’d get Wesley. Simples. 

 

“Sounds fun! Why did they tell you and not me?”  
“Michael mentioned that he only told the more adventurous of each soulmate pair, so they could break the news gently to the other one. Wanna go together, bestie?”

I laughed despite myself. “Sounds fun. We gonna pick outfits? Do each other’s hair and makeup? Talk about boys?”  


“Oh, definitely.” Jenny smiled and stood up. “Girl time! Janet!”

Janet popped into being. “Hi Jenny.”

“We’re gonna need your help a lot to get ready for this party. Can you grab us a makeup stand with one of those fancy lightbulb mirrors? Oh, and maybe a walk-in wardrobe with all Fred’s favourite fancy outfits on the righthand rail, and all mine on the left. I’m gonna go see if there’s anything useful in the bedroom.”

 

A makeup stand with two comfy stools materialised in the living room. I scowled: Janet’s flagrant reality warping was definitely something I was going to have to work on rationalising at some point. “Here is the wardrobe.” Janet pointed to a section of wall, which darkened and shifted, bulging out to form a door.”

 

I frowned at it. “But that wall is really thin. And there’s a room on the other side.”

“Those facts are both correct.”

 

I went to the door and opened it suspiciously. Inside was a walk-in wardrobe that went on for at least twenty feet. I stepped back outside, walking into the next room to check the thickness of the wall. Still less than a foot thick with a room on the other side. I sighed.

 

“Fred?” Jenny called out. 

“What is it?” I replied.

Jenny walked out of the bedroom, a curious look on her face. She was holding the scientific journal I’d left on the bed. Which I’d signed for Wesley, fully expecting him to find it. “Fancy explaining this to me?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Wesley**

 

“Can you keep it down?” Lilah asked.

I struggled to maintain my composure. “I am sitting here… in dead silence.”

“Yeah but I can hear the gears turning in your head. So, keep it down.”

“Are you asking me to stop thinking?” I asked quietly.

“Well, I’d tell you to die but that clearly did nothing to improve your disposition, so logically having you stop thinking might be the only cure for your grumpiness.”

 

I resisted the urge to throw my book at her. I’d been doing my best to ignore Lilah for the past two hours, with mixed success. She seemed to take endless delight in badgering me, insulting me and otherwise harassing my every attempt to endure this time period. She truly was insufferable. 

 

I suppose I could distract myself by picking out an outfit for tonight. I sighed and walked to the wardrobe, opening it. I looked through my clothes, searching for something appropriately formal. “Ooh, what are you looking for?” Lilah leaned against the doorframe of the walk-in wardrobe. “Ooh, let me guess. A tweed suit, but, with a matching hat. Am I close?”

I ignored her.

“I’m close, aren’t I?”

 

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Not when I’m having fun.”

 

I found the tux, moving it to the front of the wardrobe. “Wow. Fancy, Wesley. In an old man way. I hope this isn’t supposed to impress me. Or anyone else. Much as I’d love for you to be embarrassed so utterly.”

“I take it you’ll be wearing something suitably evil?” I turned to find her blocking the way out of the wardrobe. “A dress made of human bones, perhaps? Or will you just be sticking to the irredeemably trashy, gauche outfits you usually wear on the few hours you were allowed outside of your Law Firm to pursue a pretence at a happy, fulfilled life?”

 

Lilah blinked. She looked thrown. I saved the picture as a mental image to ward me through the rest of the day, then brushed past her calmly. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping your mouth open so I could have the pleasure of watching a suitably disgusting insect fly into it, that would be wonderful Lilah.” I didn’t look behind me as I walked upstairs to the library and shut the door.

 

I walked past the bookshelves - all filled with fascinating tomes that I would ordinarily be dying to devour, but held no interest for me at present - stopping at the round table in the larger central aisle between two stacks. “Janet?”

“Hello, Wesley.”

“Can you produce for me some kind of interactive three-dimensional map of the entire neighbourhood? With user-friendly labels and a function to support annotation, ideally.”

“Give me one second to make one.” Janet vanished.

 

I turned around, intending to make a cup of tea while I waited for her to make it. “Done!” Janet called from behind me before I even took a step. 

“That was fast.” I remarked.

“That was one second.” Janet smiled cheerily.

I appraised her for a second: she certainly looked human, but appearances could always be deceiving. “What precisely are you, Janet?”

“I am an anthropomorphised artificial, intelligent being.”

 

I paused for a second, looking for an analogy. “Like a benevolent version of the Great Intelligence?”

“Yes, except I am capable of manifesting physically and warping reality within this neighbourhood. I also possess near infinite knowledge.”

“What’s the last number in Pi?” I asked, jokingly.

“Six.”

I squinted at her, unsure if she was joking. I would have to ask Fred about it later. Which reminded me…

 

I turned my attention to the map: the neighbourhood appeared to be made up of a large valley. This town was nestled at the exact centre of the plane, on the low ground. Occupying one third of the town’s boundary was the forest I’d spotted earlier which stretched all the way to the neighbourhood’s boundary - demarcated by the mountains -, on another were rolling green fields, the third was dominated by alarge blue lake, with numerous smaller lakes dotted around it. 

 

I shifted the map, zooming in to focus on the town. I could see my own house, helpfully marked. Michael’s office, the town centre, the various restaurants and the central park were all helpfully labeled. “Janet, is there any reason the residences aren’t labeled?” I asked.

 

“That is private information.” Janet said cheerfully. “They would need to consent to your knowing about their living space. I can send out a survey if you wish?”

“No, that’s fine.” I stroked my chin thoughtfully. “What lies beyond the mountains?”  
“An impenetrable barrier leading to inter-dimensional space.”

“Which I take it is unsafe to travel through?”  
“Your soul would be obliterated beyond reconstruction almost immediately. The process would be extremely painful.”

I considered the map. “Janet, is what I ask you private?”

“Yes. Nobody can access what you ask me.”

“Interesting. No surveillance takes place within the neighbourhood, correct? No police, cameras etcetera?”

“Of course not. Why would we need to?”  
“Why indeed.” 

 

“I’m not asking for data on any individuals, but can the map register which areas are most frequented at specific times? For example, by shading in areas at different times of day based on volume of people occupying them previously.”

“Of course. Would you like me to filter out anomalous data?”  
“Yes, please.”  
“Very well. There will be no useful data for several more hours, as movement has been confined to the motions required for orientation.”

“Understood. Thank you Janet. Could you make it so that the simulation only plays when I am in this room, and is invisible to everyone but me?”

“Done.” Janet vanished.

 

Well, that was taken care of. I walked to the shelf nearest me and gingerly removed one of the books. These were not like the other books. Some of the others were magical tomes, my favourite works of fiction, texts about demonology or languages… these were not. A post-it note stuck on the bookcase informed me they were Reference books: I could request for them to contain any knowledge not marked ‘forbidden’ or private, as well as request they transform into a specific copy of any book. The latter function seemed superfluous, as I could alter the contents of the library at any time simply by asking Janet or writing on a whiteboard stuck to the wall by the entrance.

 

I sat down in the nearest chair and opened the book: blank, of course. “I want all information related to the Good Place, the construction of neighbourhoods, the determining of inhabitants, any rules inhabitants are required to follow and the method for matching individuals with soulmates.”

 

I could actually _see_ extra pages materialising inside the already weighty book, as the pages it were currently open to filled up near instantly with black text in an impossibly small font. I put on my glasses: still not good enough. I sighed, and grabbed the magnifying glass left on the shelf next to the reference books and held it overt the text. It was just about readable. I decided to skip to the section on rules for inhabitants and the method for soul mate determination. “Janet, could I have a cup of tea and some rich tea biscuits please?”

The food materialised on the table next to me. I sipped the tea: almost perfect. The only thing it was missing was a certain girl sitting on the chair opposite me, sipping her own tea and intensely reading the latest in scientific literature. But I was working on that.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Fred**

 

I froze, staring at the article. Of course. I’d signed it and left it on the bed as a nice surprise for Wesley. A kind of thank you for writing such a sweet, heartwarming quote which the group had tacked on to the end. I’d been one hundred percent expecting Wesley to come in, and hadn’t thought to grab it once Jenny arrived.

 

“Because,” Jenny raised an eyebrow. “You told me just a few seconds ago that you weren’t expecting anyone in particular to be your soulmate. Then I find a signed copy of an article you wrote - a dedication that I really wish I hadn’t read by the way, and will try to forget for your sake and mine because it’s so sappy I feel like I might throw up - which is obviously intended for a specific person.”

I tried to come up with an explanation and failed completely. “Umm… Look, it’s not that big a deal. I just-”

 

“Hi, Fred.” Janet materialised in front of me holding out a stack of books. “Here are Wesley’s diaries, as requested.” I froze as Janet vanished. 

Jenny raised an eyebrow. I laughed nervously and put down the diaries. 

 

Jenny smiled encouragingly and took a step forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I know I’m not what you expected. But don’t feel the need to lie to me. It will just throw up barriers between us. Trust me, I’ve been there, done that and got my neck snapped. It’s no fun.”

“Okay.” I nodded meekly.

Jenny pulled me into a deep hug. “I’m sorry your boyfriend Wesley isn’t here.” She rocked me gently. “He’s still on Earth. And maybe you can see him again, later on. But you can’t cling to him. Try to win him back, when he’s in a different dimension to us. You need to learn to let him go. Grabbing all his diaries… it isn’t healthy.”

 

I sniffled, allowing the crushing reality to finally hit me. I couldn’t keep lying to myself, so I let all my fears bubble out. “Maybe you’re right. He probably has a really beautiful soulmate. She’s probably English and refined and her favourite food won’t be Tacos… and she won’t have messed up when he was alive and never told him how she felt…”

“Wait. Rewind.” Jenny pushed me away to arm’s length, and shifted her hands to be on my shoulders, staring into my eyes. “Weren’t you guys dating? And isn’t he still alive?”  


“Oh, no!” I shook my head. “Wesley wasn’t my boyfriend when I was alive.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow motioning for me to keep going. I swallowed. “Keep a secret?”  
Jenny nodded gravely.

 

I bit my lip and started talking, trying to get through it as quickly as I could. “Essentially, I knew Wesley when we were alive and we were friends. Looking back on it, I think he had a crush on me for a while then he almost killed me when he was under the effects of a demon whammy, and he got so guilty about it he didn’t act on it for ages. Then I ended up dating my ex-boyfriend, Gunn, still not realising he had feelings for me. Wesley died later, and… and it broke me. I never realised how I felt about him until it was too late. I worked for months trying to resurrect him, I broke up with my boyfriend, I obsessed over bringing him back… then _I died_. And I got here and found out the chances of us being in the same neighbourhood were so tiny and then I just ran into him and it was like a sign from the universe, right, so we talked and chatted and we fit so easily back into our old routine that it made my heart want to burst because I’d missed him so much, and then I kissed him and we confessed we loved each other-” I paused for breath, then kept going. “and everything was wonderful, then we got split up for the soulmate stuff and I was so sure he was going to be here and now he _isn’t_ and I’m just sure some other beautiful, kind and intelligent _bitch_ is flirting with him right now and he’s realising that we’re maybe not meant for each other and I’m so angry and… disappointed. I think this is what he felt like when I started dating Gunn, and isn’t that karmic justice?” I looked up as Jenny ruefully.

 

Jenny nodded slowly. I was ready for her to tell me to move on, to let Wesley be happy. “Do you love him?” Jenny asked softly.

“Yes."  
“Do you love him so much it hurts when he isn’t there?”  
“God, yes.”  
“If you could choose - right now - to be with him and only him, forever, would you?”

“Without a second’s hesitation.”

 

Jenny nodded. “In that case, we can forget my makeover.” Jenny steered me over to the makeup chair and pushed me down into it. “We are going to give you the greatest, most badass, _ultra-targeted_ makeover ever. And Wesley is going to get into that room - and I don’t care if his soulmate is a perfect, beautiful, angelic genius - he is going to forget her in a half-second. You and me are going to kick this other girl straight to the curb and show no mercy. Are you in?” Jenny brushed my hair behind my shoulders and stared at me in the mirror, expression intense.

 

I felt - and saw in the mirror - the naughty smile creep onto my face. “Hell yes.”

Jenny patted me on the shoulder. “Now. We’re gonna do this smart. We have an advantage, which is that Wesley has already fallen for you previously We need to capitalise on that by strategically likening you to the moments he found you most attractive, while also contrasting yourself as being better now. Does that make sense?”

 

I hesitated. “Kinda? I think you should be in charge of this.”

“Fine, but you’re the authority on Wesley so if I do something you think he won’t like, tell me immediately.”

“Alright.”

“Now. Can you think of a time when you were all dressed up and prettied and - looking back on it - Wesley was obviously knocked off his feet?”  
“The Ballet.” I said firmly. “We went out to a ballet together. I wore this red dress-”

“Say no more.” Jenny held up a finger. “Janet? Can you grab me an identical copy of the dress Fred wore to the ballet she’s talking about?”

 

Janet materialised, holding a hangar with a dress on it. I let out a sigh upon seeing it: I just couldn’t help myself. The beautiful red dress Cordy had helped me pick out. It reminded me of that evening, a time when I could just be happy. No fear or grief or loss. Just happiness.

 

Jenny looked at it critically. “Hmm. And he went crazy for this?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “I’m almost certain.”

“Well, let’s make certain. Go put it on.” Jenny ushered me into the bedroom, passing me the dress. “Janet can make some alterations once you’re done.”  
“Alterations?” I frowned, before Jenny slammed the door in my face.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Wesley**

 

I sighed, shutting the book. It was practically indecipherable. Endless lines of text that read like legalese, but somehow managed to be even more dull. I’d felt myself actively nodding off trying to read through it, despite focusing all my efforts. I’d be better off just trying to clear this up with Michael. There was no way - in any reality - that I belonged with Lilah Morgan and not Fred.

 

I had best get changed for this party. On a whim, I whispered to the book. “Erase.” The text vanished from within and I replaced it on the shelf. No sense letting Lilah snoop through my belongings. I’d already Lilah-proofed my map, no sense in not doing the same with my research. I went downstairs, walking into the wardrobe to pick up the tuxedo. I swiftly donned it, fingering the bow tie and remembering the last time I’d dressed like this. God, the ballet. An evening so full of promise that had turned out to be so crushing. Maybe Fred could interpret something from this. A sign that I was interested, as I had been when I last wore this. Assuming her soulmate hadn’t already swept her off her feet, hulking, musclebound genius scientist he was bound to be. I sighed, tying the bow tie around my neck.

 

I examined myself in the mirror. I’d needed surprisingly little time to prepare for this. I suppose part of this place kept me in generally better condition. Fred would probably be able to get ready in no time.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

 

**Fred**

 

I walked out of the bedroom. “How do I look?” I asked shyly.

Jenny pursed her lips and slowly circled me, eyes examining critically. I felt myself blush. “It’s a nice dress.” Jenny said eventually. “Quite flattering. How do you feel about matching red heels?”

“Sure.”

“Janet?”

 

Janet handed me a pair of scarlet-red heels. I stepped into them, wincing: apparently these things were a pain, even in heaven. Jenny nodded approvingly, taking a step back. “The heels do wonders.”  
“Thanks.” I hissed in pain. “Can I take them off?”

“Yes, you can. But don’t sit down yet.”

 

Jenny stepped in front of me. “I’d just like to remind you that you put me in charge of this.”

“Oh, I’m not going to like where this is going, am I?” I smiled weakly.

“Just hear me out. Let me make a few minor changes to the dress. If you’re sure you don’t like them, we’ll go back. Deal?”  
“Deal…” I frowned suspiciously.

“Okay. No talking until I’m done then.” Jenny began circling again. It felt very much like she was a shark and I was some helpless otter about to be devoured. 

 

“The dress does a few things very well. You _kill_ the strapless shoulder look, that’s going to drive him nuts. Now, Janet just dip the neckline a little bit.” I squeaked as I felt the dress shift - still on my body - the front of it parting into a tiny v-shaped neckline. I swallowed. “It was already quite low down, are you sure-”

 

Jenny held up a finger. I lapsed back into silence. “Now, at first I was thinking backless but that’s a little too tacky. We’re going to replace most of the back with an intricate black lace pattern. Go ahead, Janet.” I felt a rush of cool air against my back, suddenly far more exposed to the elements. I swallowed nervously. Jenny glanced at the dress again, then nodded slowly. “I like the floor-length style. It’s very regal. He’s seen your legs, right?”  


I choked. “Pardon?”

“Your legs. I saw you in that summer dress earlier Fred, they’re killer. Has he seen them before?”

“I suppose so.”  
Jenny nodded approvingly. “That’s good. Not being able to see even a hint of them under that dress will drive him crazy remembering them. Meanwhile, our alterations will do our best to accentuate everything he desperately wants to see. Did you have a shawl for your shoulders last time?”  
“Yes.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Something a tiny bit more modest to-

“Forget it. The temperature’s perfect and it’ll just get in the way of the look.”

 

Of course it would.

 

“How do you feel about the changes?”

I twirled in front of the mirror. I definitely liked the new back: it was daring. The black lace formed a lovely pretty pattern, exposing the skin underneath. I hope I didn’t look too pale with the red and the black. “I’m not sure about the neckline. I definitely like the back though.”

Jenny nodded. “Fine, you know him best. Janet, revert the neckline.”

 

I breathed a sigh of relief as it shifted back. I just felt a little comfortable with a bit less air down there. “Okay, next.” Jenny lifted up my arms. “Do we think he likes gloves? Nice long ballgown gloves, really play up the beautiful princess vibe we’re throwing out.”

“Umm… I don’t know.”

“You have very slender, pretty arms. Good skin too.” Jenny inspected critically. “So it’s up to you. I’d say black gloves, match the back, good contrast with the red dress and the creamy skin. Tell you what, let’s get a pair and decide later.”  
I nodded, and a pair of black gloves materialised on the makeup stand. Jenny steered me over and sat me down in the chair. “I was thinking.” Jenny bent down on one knee. “Definitely lipstick. Nothing too obvious or gauche, a nice light subtle shade. We’ll leave the bright stuff to the floozies. I think definitely some eyeshadow. Not much more than that: you pretty much have the facial division down pat, so I don’t think it’s the best place to focus our efforts.”  
I nodded along. Jenny was a force of nature.

 

“We’ll do that at the end. Now, earrings. Do you want any?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Silver I think.”  
“Couldn’t agree more. Janet, something extremely tasteful and elegant. Subtle too.”

Jenny held aloft a tiny pair of beautiful silver earrings. Tiny stars, matched. “I love them.” I gasped. “They’re so pretty. Do you think I should get a necklace?”

Jenny made a humming noise. “I don’t think so. The expanse of skin works wonders without anything blocking the view or drawing attention away.”

I nodded.

 

“Now. Hair: Up or down?”

I hesitated. “I had it up at the ballet…”

“I think down then.” Jenny said firmly. “It provides a visual distinction to show things are a bit different now. You’ve quite literally let your hair down. Plus I can just see the curls cascading over your shoulders… oh darling, you’re going to be glorious. How does it sound?”

“It sounds wonderful, Jenny.” 

“Let’s get to work then. I’ll do the hair, then touch up the makeup.”

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Wesley**

 

“What a surprise.” I said evenly. “You look even less decorous than usual.”

Lilah was wearing a relatively long black dress, cinched tightly at the waist with a slit up the side. There were no sleeves and the neckline was obscenely low. I had to admit it did flatter her, in an evil, tarty sort of way. Her lipstick was bright red, her eyes heavily shadowed and she wore gold and black earrings.

 

Lilah blew me a kiss and smirked. “At least I don’t look like an old man. All you need is a cane and a lawn to shoo people off.”

“I think I’d also need a crotchety, hateful and ugly old woman as my companion. Ah wait, I have that covered.”  
LIlah smiled sweetly, prodding a tiny pill bottle. “Lozenge?” She asked acidly.

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Fred**

 

My eyes were squeezed shut. “I don’t want to look.” I whispered. “Why don’t we just undo all of it and I go casually? That would be nice. Easy.”

“Fred,” I could hear the smile on Jenny’s face. “We’ve done all the hard work. Just open your eyes and look in the full length mirror.”

I swallowed. “Are you sure I look alright?”

“Fred you look much, much, much better than alright.”

 

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, staring into the mirror. Wow. I felt by breath hitch in my throat. I took a small step backwards and turned nervously. “Don’t give me some half-baked turn.” Jenny scolded gently. “Show me a twirl, girl!”

 

I took a deep breath and did a twirl. Wow. I looked…

 

Incredible. I think.

 

The red dress flowed over me like a waterfall, bright red colour starkly contrasting with my pale skin. My shoulders and upper arms were completely bared and the black ballroom gloves we’d chosen went up almost to my elbows, clinging to my arms and making me feel extremely refined. The black lace back on the dress was stunning - if I did say so myself - and the ballgown fell elegantly to the floor around my feet, neatly disguising that I’d worn heels to be this tall. Jenny had picked the perfect shade of lipstick, a pale pink that I hoped accentuated them without being too overt. The dark eyeshadow was smoky and mysterious, drawing attention to and contrasting with my eyes. I smiled experimentally in the mirror, revelling in the feeling of seeing this elegant princess in the mirror copy my motions so exactly. My hair had been expertly, reverentially curled by Jenny, and it now cascaded over my bare shoulders in a beautiful waterfall, framing my face, which looked radiant. I felt like I was glowing.

 

I twirled again, watching my hair fly around me like a tornado, while the edges of the red dress flared up at my feet. I giggled as my hair returned back to perfect shape, no need for brushing or fixing. “Jenny.” I turned to face her, clasping my hands together. “You’re incredible.”

“Well,” Jenny smiled, reaching out to clasp my hands. “I had an excellent muse to work with.”  
“Do you think he’ll like the look?” I asked, the tiniest feeling of nervousness creeping back into me. 

Jenny shook her head. “Honey, every woman in this dimension would _kill_ to look like you do now. And this is only how amazing you look to yourself and me: remember we picked this outfit specifically to push Wesley’s button. This is going to push every button he has, including a few he doesn’t know about.”

“You think so?” I asked shyly.

“Fred, you look like a fairytale princess on her way to the ball. You are a work of art, a creature of purest beauty. He’s not gonna be able to keep his eyes off you. Just tell me this guy is worth it.”

 

I nodded. “He’s worth it.” I smiled, drifting off for a second to remember all the time I’d spent with Wesley. When he’d coaxed me out from under desks, gone with me to get ice cream when I was feeling blue, taken me on walks in the park so I’d get used to the world. How we’d read together and chat about scientific articles, that dinner we’d all had at his place as a group when he’d showed me so much care and attention in the nicest way possible…

 

“Cut!” Jenny shook her head, smirking, breaking me out of my memories.

“Huh?” I frowned.

“Judging by the dopey grin you just got even thinking about him, I’m gonna assume he’s worth it. Now, I need to do my outfit.”

“Ooh, let me help!” I clapped. “What look are you going for? Should we match?”

“No way, Fred. I cannot pull your spotlight. I have a dress picked out. Let me just go change.”

Jenny bustled into the bedroom and shut the door. 

 

I admired myself once more in the mirror, flushing slightly as I did so. Look at me, preening in front of a mirror. I remembered thinking the girls at my high school were so silly for focusing so much on their appearance: I still did. But sometimes it was worth it. Just to dress up and feel so beautiful. “Janet?” I asked.

“Hi!” Janet materialised.

“Can you take some nice photos of me? From different angles. I want to remember this feeling.” 

“Done.” Janet held up a small photo album. 

“Thanks, Janet.” I placed it carefully on the coffee table.

 

“So, Fred.” Jenny spoke to me through the door. “What’s our attack strategy?”

“Attack strategy?” I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean to say is, you now have the tools. So how are we deploying them?”

“Oh. I thought I’d just mingle and then… wait until I bump into him?”

Deafening silence from the door. “Hmm.” Jenny said eventually.

I sighed. “What do you think then?”

“What I think, is that we keep you in reserve. Out of sight until after Wesley has arrived. I’ll do some recon, since they don’t know me. I’ll get the scoop on whoever it is, then I’ll wait for them to leave Wesley’s side and we’ll send you in.”

 

“I don’t know.” I said, doubtfully. “Would they really want to leave Wesley’s side? I can’t imagine I would if I’d only just been introduced as his soulmate. I’d want to stay close. Together.”

“If that’s the case, I can cause a distraction.” Jenny replied. “Get her away from him. I’ll set him up, then you knock him down.”

“Okay.” I nodded doubtfully, full of trepidation about how difficult it was going to be to separate Wesley from his soulmate and feeling suddenly, awfully guilty: how could I do this? Wasn’t it at least a little bit wrong to steal Wesley from someone who had to be falling for him? Even if he had been mine first and had given me no signal that he wished to stop being that?

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Wesley**

 

“I can’t wait to get away from you.” Lilah waved to someone in the throng of people around us as we walked towards the fountain, false smile fixed on her face, as she whispered in my ear.

I leant over to whisper in hers. “The feeling is mutual.” I fought not to let myself grimace, as Lilah let out a false giggle, pretending to be amused by what I had said. Lilah had actually forced us to link arms, and she’d draped hers across my shoulder: apparently having me for a soulmate was less embarrassing than not being on speaking terms with your soulmate after one afternoon. I’d been too despondent to offer much defence against it.

 

The party was an entirely outdoor affair: the vast ornate fountain at the exact centre of the neighbourhood was beautifully lit up in the dark, jets of water arcing gracefully from one layer to the next, angelic statues poised in various heroic or amusing poses throughout. Tables with food had been placed at the sides of each street in the crossroads (which the fountain was at the centre of) with different snacks and drinks on each one: the usual selection, plus a set of empty plates and glasses, which I was told would fill - respectively - with the food or drink you most wanted at that exact moment. Snacking seemed to be encouraged, but dining tables had also been laid out slightly further down. 

 

All around me was a sea of bliss: dozens of couples staring into each other’s eyes, chatting, laughing together and sharing intimate touches, whispering in each other’s ears. Slightly larger groups had congregated, having animated conversations. And in the middle of so much love and adoration, I was trapped with Lilah Morgan, evil bitch Queen, whose one selfless act had earned her not only a pass into a beautiful paradise, but also the licence to ruin my afterlife. As I looked around - feigning nonchalance - I was in truth desperately looking for any sign of Fred. And her soulmate. I hadn’t even met him yet and I knew I was going to hate him. He was going to be perfect and they were going to share in eternal bliss… while I was going to be stuck with Lilah. One afternoon with her had been hell. I had to find Michael and talk about this with him.

 

Lilah reached up to touch my face lightly and I just about resisted the urge to recoil in disgust. “I’m gonna go get myself a drink. Can I fetch you anything? Cyanide? Your own blood? Liquified failure?”

“Just… please, get me one of the empty glasses.”  
“Of course, _soul_ _mate_.” Lilah whispered in my ear, kissing me once on each cheek then sauntering off towards the drinks table.

 

I couldn’t suppress the huge grin that broke out on my face at seeing her leave. I kept watching to make sure she was getting far away and sighed contentedly: finally, some peace. I sat on the edge of the fountain, keeping one eye on Lilah while I desperately searched for Fred. I couldn’t see her anywhere. Where was she hiding?

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Fred**

 

“Do you see him yet?” I hissed to Jenny, still hiding inside the room just beyond Michael’s office, where I’d first arrived. Jenny was hovering at the door, keeping an eye on the guests. “No sign of him.” She checked the photo I’d given her again. “He’s definitely cute, by the way. You two look adorable together."  
“Thanks.” I shifted nervously, resisting my aggressive desire to pace. Where was he? Wesley was never late, why would he be late?

 

“Wait, Fred, I see him!” Jenny hissed, motioning for me to get back against the wall. I obliged, flattening myself out of sight.

“Do you see her?” I demanded.

Jenny blinked. “Yeah. I see her.”

I didn’t like Jenny’s facial expression. “How bad is it?” I whispered. “How beautiful is she?”

Jenny hesitated. “I’ve seen better.”

“Where?”  
“Fashion magazines.” She admitted.

 

I could feel myself beginning to hyperventilate. Oh God, what does she look like? “What does she look like?”  
“Err, I guess she’s a bit pretty. Kinda. If she’s your type. The hair’s a little big for my taste. I guess some people would say she’s well-proportioned, but that might just be the trashy dress. It’s black if you can believe that and the earrings are completely over-ostentatious. I’m not even going to talk about the makeup, it’s so-”

“Jenny be honest with me.” I glared at her. “Is she beautiful?”

Jenny relented. “Yeah. Not like you. But yes.”

“Oh God,” I bit my lip, wringing my hands. “How are they acting together? What are they doing?”

 

Jenny looked back out the door and I saw her knuckles whiten. “Err. They clearly aren’t very comfortable with each other.”  
“Really?” I felt my hopes balloon.

“Yeah, I mean they haven’t spoken a word to anyone else. They’re just whispering in each other’s ears. Oh, she just giggled. What a tart.”

 

I paced nervously. Oh God, they’d already bonded. This had been stupid. I’d been stupid. “Let me see!” I hissed, unable to stop myself dashing to the door and peeking out. I spotted him almost immediately. The woman - who I couldn’t get a good look at but wow, well proportioned - gently touched Wesley’s face. I may have whimpered. He murmured something to her and she smiled, kissing him once on each cheek before whispering in his ear, pulling away and heading for the drinks table. I could feel my heart sinking into my stomach just watching their blatant display of affection. God, they looked so intimate.

 

As he watched her walking, Wesley’s face broke into the expression of purest, most heartfelt joy I’d ever seen on his face. He kept watching her as she pulled away, barely even glancing at anyone else as his gaze swept the crowd for the briefest second before going back to her. I held back a choking sob. That was almost the same happy look he’d given me earlier.

 

“Oh God, I’m such an idiot.” I collapsed against a wall, definitely hyperventilating. “What did I think? That I could doll myself up and somehow compete with his actual soulmate?” I laughed mirthlessly. This felt very much like karmic justice. I hadn’t noticed him in life when I’d dressed for the ballet, and now - both of us even wearing almost the same outfits - he had every reason to ignore me in death. “I mean… she’s all… and they look so…” The tears finally broke out, streaming down my face as I cried, heaving sobs as tears blurred my vision.

 

Jenny grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. “It’s okay, Fred.” She murmured, stroking my hair. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” I sniffled. “It’s never going to be okay. I messed it all up. And now he’s found Miss Perfection and I’ve dressed up for no reason and… it isn’t fair! It’s isn’t fair because _I love him!_ ”

“I know.” Jenny said soothingly, rubbing my back gently. “Which is why we’re going to do this.”

 

I broke off the bug, staring at her disbelievingly. “How?” I choked out. “You saw them together.”

“I did.” Jenny produced a handkerchief and carefully dabbed away my tears, looking at me appraisingly. “Makeup is still fine and hairdo is perfect. Thank you, paradise. Listen, Fred. Nothing has changed. Tell me: do you know if Wesley ever loved anyone before you?”

 

I hesitated, looking at the floor. “Cordy told me he dated this Virginia girl for a while, but they broke it off. He was fine afterwards…”  
“That’s good.” Jenny tilted my chin up, staring into my eyes. “You are his first love, Winifred. And that means it _doesn’t matter_ how they’re acting, it will be nothing compared to how he feels when he sees you. Do you understand?”

I nodded slightly, not believing it.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”

“I think…” I sighed. “I just want to go _home_. Just eat ice cream together and watch a sappy movie and forget I got all dressed up and forget _her…”_

Jenny shook her head. “Hell no, sister. I am going to run interference on that unworthy, faux classy trash. Once I’m out there, you count to thirty then make your way over to Wesley. I want you to approach from the opposite side of the fountain, ideally make it so he can catch sight of you before you get to him. Through the jets: do you understand?”

I nodded mutely.

 

“If you aren’t out of this room thirty five seconds after I get out there, I am dragging Wesley in here. Got it?”

I nodded.

 

“Go knock him dead girl.” Jenny smirked and took a deep breath, schooling her face into a pleasant expression. “I am going to take this girl _down_.”

 

Jenny went outside. I began counting. 20. 25. 26. 27. 28.

 

I couldn’t do this.

 

29.

 

But I had to. I shut my eyes and breathed deeply, remembering Wesley. I remembered going out for ice cream. Eating lunch together. The pure unbridled joy on both our faces when we’d reunited today. The look of wonder on his face after we’d had our first kiss.

 

30.

 

I walked outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to write, was having some writer's block. In theory updates should be faster now: kudos are appreciated, comments are both appreciated and help me to write this better! Hope you enjoy this!!


	5. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred finds Wesley at the party and they unite in an attempt to convince Michael that they are soulmates.

**Wesley**

 

I was rapidly becoming frustrated. Even Lilah’s departure hadn’t been enough to raise my spirits for long. I’d been scanning this party relentlessly and seen no sign of Michael or Fred. I obviously needed to talk to the first one to sort out this ludicrous soulmate situation. And I had to talk to Fred because… she was Fred. And I already missed her. Subconsciously, I raised one hand to my face, remembering the warmth of her lips against mine. The genuine love and affection in those eyes. God, I missed her. It had only been hours and I felt like there was a gaping hole in my side.

 

I momentarily abandoned surveying the party for any sign of Michael or Fred and turned my attention to the fountain. It was quite a masterpiece. Made out of white marble, jets of water neatly arcing over each other- even between the three tiers of the fountain - in an intricate, beautiful and subtly shifting framework. Chiselled states to shoot those jets. Coloured lights beneath the surface of the crystal clear water, illuminating the edifice in a dappled, dazzling mix of colours that managed to be pretty but not overwhelming.

 

Behind a purple jet of water, I saw a flash of scarlet and focused on it subconsciously. A dress. I couldn’t quite see whoever was wearing it, my view blocked by the jets of water and distorted by the lights. I caught glimpses of this person, who for some reason my eyes felt compelled to follow. Dark black gloves. The long, flowing scarlet dress with a slight petal pattern. They passed out of sight quickly and I sighed. It had been by far the most tasteful outfit here. I turned back to examine the fountain, determined to enjoy the precious few moments I had before Lilah returned.

 

“Hello, Wesley.” I knew the voice. How could I not? I loved that voice. The tiniest hint of shyness. The slight southern twang. The warmth and genuineness of it, completely unmatched by anyone I’d ever known.

 

Fred. I took a deep breath and turned to face her. I thought I was ready for anything. To see her back on Gunn’s arm, or entwined with a handsome astronaut. But looking back, I wasn’t anywhere near ready. I couldn’t have been. Because when I finished turning to face her, Winifred Burkle stole the breath from my lungs, the blood from my veins and every thought in my head.

 

I couldn’t help but gasp in shock when I first saw her. Because there was so much to see. The scarlet dress. The one I’d been so drawn to. I recognised it: the same dress she’d worn to the ballet. Sleeveless and shoulder-less, there was so much of Fred’s perfect, creamy white skin on display that I thought I might faint. The slight, pretty shoulders and the elegant posture. Her slender arms, which my eyes traced down to those black ballroom gloves. God, she was so classy. They clung to her forearms, contrasting perfectly with the scarlet dress and the pure white skin. The gown clung to her curves, her perfect waist, and flowed like a waterfall all the way down past her feet, a curtain between Fred and the world. I failed to resist the urge to picture Fred’s bare legs beneath the dress, elegantly shaped and perfectly formed. The same beautiful colour and perfectly smooth texture as the rest of her. God, I wish I could see them. My eyes trailed back up, eyeing her perfect swan neck. I followed the beautiful, rich, chocolatey curls of her hair, which cascaded to her shoulders in waves, winding up to her ears. Tiny silver stars shimmered beneath her ears, like the stars themselves were desperate to be close to her. This - of course - drew me to Fred’s face. The perfect complexion. The artistic, classical cheekbones. Her perfect pink lips, parted in a smile that was oh so nervous and impossibly beautiful. Her tiny, cute nose and finally those eyes. God, I could lose myself in those eyes. Subtly shadowed - and slightly higher than normal I think, was she wearing heels? - her beautiful, deep brown eyes were as full of love and curiosity as they had always been. I saw them moving slowly over me even as mine were roving her.

 

Having finally appreciated every individual flower - though certainly not to their fullest extent - I withdrew my attention to the entire bouquet. And every feature - while beautiful on its own - combined into a whole that was simply divine. Every inch of Fred was perfect. She practically glowed with life, beauty and happiness. She shone like she was the brightest star in the heavens, which she obviously was. She looked like a regal, elegant, fairytale princess but without the icy coldness, instead she radiated warmth and love. I may have whimpered.

 

“Wesley.” Fred smiled dazzlingly, looking me up and down quickly. “You look so handsome.”

“Fred,” I managed to get out, then scrambled for something to say. How did you compliment the woman of your dreams, who’d showed up to meet you in an outfit so perfect that ancient goddesses of beauty from countless pantheons were doubtless riding here to seek vengeance against one who dared to surpass their glory? “You look… perfect.” I wanted to run at her, to wrap her in my arms. To pick her up and spin her around. To put my arms around her waist and kiss her all night long. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Not yet. Not until I knew what she wanted. 

 

Fred smiled at me, the tiniest flush on her cheeks. “Thank you.” She advanced forwards slowly, I shifted slightly, allowing her to reach the fountain. She leaned over the water, gloved hands braced on the rim of the fountain. And this was when I nearly had my second heart attack of the day. Because - although this dress had looked exactly like the one Fred wore to the ballet from the front - there was one quite crucial difference.

 

Instead of the scarlet, high back that dress had possessed this one’s back was constructed almost entirely of black lace. It was intricately woven, spiralling over her back, not so revealing as to be immodest but still showing enough of that perfect, snow-white skin to shock me into paralysis. I would have found Fred beautiful no matter what she wore: she had an effortless, angelic beauty that never seemed to fade or tarnish. She’d been beautiful when we found her in Pylea and in every moment since. But this was a new level. She was nothing less than a goddess. She leaned over the fountain, staring into the water and managing to show off the lacy back even more. Fighting tooth and claw against the part of me that demanded I grab her right now and kiss her, I joined her by the water.

 

“It’s beautiful.” Fred whispered, staring out over the water.

“Immeasurably.” I whispered, my eyes not leaving Fred for a second.

I saw her eyes spark with something at my words: surprise? Relief? I had a great deal of trouble reading Fred at the best of times. And at this time? With her looking so perfect that most of my brain had shutdown to prevent overheating? It was not the best time.

 

“I missed you.” Fred whispered softly, gloved hand slowly turning over on the rim of the fountain. She looked at me, and there was terrible hope in her eyes. Hope and fear. She was offering me her hand and she thought I wasn’t going to take it. I felt my heart break in that instant. Fred should never have to feel that way. Never feel alone or unloved. Because I was _always_ going to be here for her.

“I missed us too.” I whispered softly, swallowing and praying I hadn’t misjudged this. “I miss everything about you. It’s… there’s been a hole in my world where you were meant to be standing.”

 

Fred took a step towards me, dress shimmering in the light. One gloved hand reached up to stroke my face and I felt a glorious shiver move through my whole body. “Do you mean that?” Fred asked. 

“Yes.” I replied.

Fred swallowed and took a final step forwards, closing all distance between us. I could feel her presence in the air around me. “Do you love me?” She whispered, staring up at me. It felt like she was giving me a chance to back down. Her lower lip wobbled slightly, an unbearable tension filling her frame.

“Winifred,” I entwined my fingers with her free hand. “I always have loved you. Since I first saw you. On some days, it feels like I’ve loved you for longer than that. And I am sure that I _will_ always love you.”

 

Fred blinked, tears in her eyes. The blush was all over her cheeks. Her face broke into the widest, happiest, most relieved smile I’d ever seen. She stared at me with purest adoration and I _knew_ in that moment that my existence had meaning as long as I could make Fred smile like that. “I love you too!” Fred said the words quickly, as if she was afraid that if she didn’t say them fast enough the world might snatch them away. She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me into a kiss. I wrapped both my arms around her and pulled her close to me. In the dappled light of the fountain, we kissed furiously. Passionately. The kisses up until now had been tender. This was more. It was relief, it was joy, it was _need_ and it was completion and perfection.

Fred broke away, gasping and still wearing that dazzling smile. She rested her forehead against mine. “I was so worried.” I whispered. “So afraid. The thought of a life without you as an equal partner? That was infinitely more terrifying than death.”

Fred swallowed and whispered to me. “I was afraid too. I saw you. I almost didn’t come to see you. You looked so happy with her. I was terrified. I thought this was the universe’s final cruel joke for me: that I’d finally realise how much I loved you, only for you to find perfect happiness with another.”  
“Wait.” I frowned at Fred. “Who was I happy with?”  
Fred bit her lip. “Your soulmate. You were whispering and giggling. And she’s so… beautiful. And when you were watching her walk away… you smiled almost like you smile at me.”

 

I laughed out loud. I turned my head to the heavens and I laughed. I laughed at this cruel joke, at the universe’s final trick: Fred and I, almost kept apart because I smiled with relief as Lilah Morgan walked away. I kept laughing, and it was hard to stop. I turned back to face Fred, and she was staring at me with hurt and puzzlement. “Wesley…”

“Fred, wait.” I brought one hand up to stroke her cheek, leaving the other at her waist. “ _You_ make me laugh.” I put my mouth to her ear. “It’s _you_ I want to whisper and share secrets with. You make me indescribably happy. You are infinitely more beautiful than anything or anyone else in this reality, or any other. _You_ are my soulmate Fred, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says.”

“I _know_ you’re my soulmate too.” Fred smiled back at me, gazing at me lovingly with intensity matched only by my returning look: the world could have collapsed around us and we would never have noticed. “But why did you laugh? What was so funny about this other woman?”

I shook my head. “Because the woman you thought I was happy with, was-”

 

“Fred!” An all too familiar voice rang out. I reluctantly disengaged myself from Fred and turned around. 

“Hello, Lilah.” I put all the acid I could muster into my tone. Lilah just smiled wider. I caught Fred’s expression from the corner of my eye. She was looking between Lilah and I with shock. Horror?

 

\+ + + + + + +

 

**Fred**

 

No. It couldn’t be. This was a place for _good_ people. Lilah was…

 

She was just the _worst_. How could she be here? I looked her over, double checking it was the same evil bitch I remembered. Mocking expression: check. Trashy outfit: check. Well-proportioned: check. She also had a rather venomous, ticked off expression. It might have something to do with the dried stain on the front of her outfit - owing to the absurdly low neckline, most of whatever it was had ended up staining her - and the incredibly messed up state of her usually immaculate hair, which was now frizzy and chaotic.

 

I did a double take. _Lilah_ was Wesley’s soulmate? I looked between them. That couldn’t be right. I felt… _validated_. Whatever system they used had obviously suffered a complete breakdown of judgement: Lilah and Wesley couldn’t be meant for each other. Wesley was sweet and kind, brave and chivalrous, honourable and determined. Lilah was an evil bitch who actively worked to bring about the apocalypse, tried to kill us multiple times and was generally an evil bitch queen.

 

“What… what are you doing here?” I shook my head disbelievingly at Lilah.

She frowned in mock puzzlement. “Why, I came over here to see _you_ Fred!” She smiled at me. “After all, you were hard to spot from all the way over there. Didn’t help you were turned sideways from me and - let’s be honest right, between us girls - you practically turn invisible when viewed from the side.”

 

I felt a sharp spike of anger in my gut. Definitely the same Lilah. I felt Wesley’s hand slide into mine and squeeze gently. I relaxed slightly: Lilah was just trying to rile me up. “Lilah’s here by a fluke, Fred.” Wesley glared at Lilah. “She got squeamish about working for Wolfram & Hart - probably at the exact time it was most convenient for her to step out - and helped Angel save the world, apparently. She was also so used to sitting behind a desk that when she made it to the front lines, she got herself killed and ended up here by some flagrant miscalculation of the scoring system.”

 

Lilah shrugged. “Feel free to take it up with management. I saved the world, I’m pretty confident in my spot. But since we’re on the subject of miscalculation…” Lilah smirked. “Why don’t we talk about you, Wesley?”

 

“Shut up.” I snarled at Lilah, positioning myself between Lilah and Wesley. “Don’t you speak to him.”  
“Or what?” Lilah sneered. “I’m not afraid of you, stick figure. Anywhere, where was I? Ah, yes. Wesley. Master of the miscalculation. Where to begin?” As soon as LIlah said the word ‘stick’ I felt Wesley surge forwards. I held him back, pleading he could keep his calm. Lilah was clearly trying to get us to do something. Provoke a reaction. God, it was working too. I hated her.

 

Lilah began ticking off an imaginary list with her fingers, smirking at me. “Well, let’s see. Touched dangerous demon blood and almost murdered you, sinking his romantic chances? Check. Went to a night at the ballet thinking you were into him, when really you wanted to leap in the sack with his best friend? Tick. Tried to save Connor but failed, because the prophecy he was following was fake? Tick. Oh and here’s the real kicker Wesley. By my thinking, if you’d still been around-”

 

“Sorry,” A voice interrupted and I felt my spirits soar as Jenny Calendar smiled, in that same fake puzzled way Lilah had smiled at us, at Lilah. “Are you having trouble counting to five? As a teacher, I’m on hand to help with that.”

Lilah stopped talking, shifting her attention to the new threat. Lilah turned on her heel, putting her back to the fountain. “Ah. Hairdryer and drink klutz. Not as klutzy as you make out.”

Jenny shrugged. “Guilty as charged. What can I say? Some people are just begging for it.”

  
“What am I watching?” Wesley whispered in my ear.

“That would be a straight-up crazy bitch fight.” I whispered back.

“So.” Lilah tilted her head. “You _were_ delaying me at the buffet table. Which means you were helping out one of these clowns. And since Wesley hasn’t met anyone else all day, you came through Fred. And since I doubt Fred made any friends of her own volition - not for lack of trying, as always in her case - you must be Fred’s soulmate.”

 

“I have that pleasure.” Jenny curtsied slightly. “Not everyone is so lucky to have a genuinely pleasant soulmate.”

“I know what you mean, mine is-”

 

“Yeah I’m just gonna, stop you right there.” Jenny took a step forwards. “See, usually I’d be more than happy to trade barbs with a puffed-up little tyrant like yourself until your ears started bleeding and I crushed your will to exist, you pathetic, amoral, and - quite frankly, stupid - tart. But, I don’t have the patience for that today.”  
Lilah snorted. “And what has happened to your legendary patience?”

Jenny stepped forwards, dark eyes piercing deep into Lilah’s. I concentrated on them and saw Lilah’s composure break just a little. God, it was satisfying. 

 

“Well, to be perfectly candid? You were cruel to Fred.” Jenny put both hands on Lilah’s shoulders. “Nobody gets to be cruel to Fred.” Then Jenny shoved Lilah with all of her force. Lilah’s face morphed into an expression of total shock as she went flying over the rim of the fountain and down into the water with a magnificent splash, water going everywhere. Miraculously, I didn’t get wet. Heaven again, I guess.

 

But not even the guiding hand of this dimension could protect Lilah. She was sitting in the fountain dripping wet, hair plastered to her head. Her dress was soaked through, her shoes most definitely unsalvageable and her makeup a ruin. Best of all was the look of shock and indignation on LIlah’s face. All around the fountain, the conversation had stopped as people stared and occasionally whispered, all focus on Lilah and Jenny. Jenny stepped to the rim of the fountain and cocked her head at Lilah. “Stay away from Fred, you waste of a soul-shaped husk, forsaken by God.”

 

Jenny saluted mockingly, then winked at me. “I got your back, girl.” Jenny casually sauntered away from the fountain. Lilah was still sitting there, rendered completely speechless.

 

“That,” Wesley whispered in my ear. “Was impressive. Jenny is certainly formidable.”

I flashed back to the hours spent perfecting my outfit and look ready to see him, how Jenny had micromanaged every component to hit with maximum impact. Judging by the way Wesley had reacted to me, I imagine it had worked. “You don’t know the half of it.” I smiled.

 

The crows parted in front of us - to the side of Jenny - and Michael strode forwards. His face was extremely, completely calm. And considering I hadn’t seen him stop smiling or chuckling for one second before this one, that made me very worried. His gaze flicked over us: Jenny, Lilah, Wesley then me. He straightened his bow-tie and spoke in an exceptionally measure, calm voice. “Ms Calendar. Ms Morgan. Ms Burkle. Mr Wyndham-Pryce. May I speak to you in my office?”

 

I nodded nervously along with Wesley. Jenny shrugged and LIlah nodded firmly, staggering to her feet. “This way, please.” Michael began walking. I motioned at Wesley to go first, which he did. 

Jenny caught my arm. “Are you okay?” She whispered as we walked.

“Yeah. I’m used to this coming from that evil bitch.”

Jenny raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You really hate her.”

“She’s evil.” I explained.

“Nothing to do with the fact she’s apparently Wesley’s soulmate?”

“It’s because she’s evil.” I grumbled, folding my arms. Jenny snorted. The water feature in the antechamber - the room where I’d first arrived in the Good Place - gurgled happily, at odds with the somber mood. I followed Jenny into Michael’s office. Michael was sitting behind his desk, four chairs arranged on our side of it. Wesley was sitting in one of the two middle chairs closer to the door. “Ms Calendar, please sit in the chair furthest from the door. Ms Burkle, please sit next to her.” I sat down between Jenny and Wesley, relieved to be insulated from Lilah. Wesley turned to face me and smiled nervously. I smiled back.

 

Lilah walked into the room, hair wrapped in a towel and dress swapped out for a tracksuit. “Thank you, Janet.” She called out back into the antechamber, then sat down in the last free chair. Michael’s hands steepled together on the desk in front of him as his eyes moved over us, slowly and analytically.

 

Michael stood up and began to pace slowly. “You know,” He spoke softly. “Architects… we don’t get to spend very long in the neighbourhoods we design. One week. Maybe two, tops. Then we have to head off to the next project and never see our residents again. We don’t get to see people enjoying the paradise we build for them. So I truly _love_ the early days: I love watching everyone go through orientation and meet their perfect other half. I love seeing the community come together through mixed hobbies, or at social events like this one.”

 

“And in all the neighbourhoods I’ve designed,” Michael stopped pacing and turned to face us. “I’ve never once had to witness a fight between my residents. This is an unusual situation. What happened here was uncouth. Unnecessary. And as well as disrupting your evening, it disrupted the entire event. The happiness in this place… it just got a little less perfect. So, before I decide what I’m gong to do, I want each of you to tell me what happened…”  


Michael opened a drawer in the desk and removed a clouded, plastic cube, placing it on the desk. “While holding this. It’s a lie detector. And I should make clear that lying to me will not improve my mood.” He sighed, slumping into his chair and wiping his forehead with one hand. “Look, I hate this as much as you do. But you need to work through this. Because all of you are going to have to live together for a very long time. So let’s try to defuse this situation, before it poisons centuries of interactions? Now, Miss Morgan please go first.”

 

Lilah reached out and picked up the cube. “Say your name, please.” Michael nodded encouragingly.

“Err… Lilah Morgan.” The cube glowed green for a second, then faded back to cloudy.

“Good. Now lie about your age.”

“I’m seventeen years old.” The cube glowed red.

“Perfect. Now, please summarise the events of this evening from your perspective.”

 

“I arrived at the party with Wesley. We were sharing our usual banter.” Green.

“I offered to get him a drink, he asked for one of the automatically filling glasses. I headed off to get one and bumped into Jenny on the way back. Quite literally. We bumped into each other and my drink spilled on me. She apologised, and before I could react she retrieved a hairdryer from Janet and used it to dry off my outfit. This obviously ruined my hair and my outfit, which is annoying considering she could have just asked Janet to fix it.” Green.

 

“I started arguing with her about what she’d done. She started off apologetic, offering to get me more drinks, help me choose a different outfit later… it was at that point that she made a snide remark about my attire. I believe ‘trashy’ was the exact comment.” Green.

 

“That kicked off a slightly longer argument. Eventually, I decided to be the bigger person-” The cube flashed red. Michael raised an eyebrow. Lilah swallowed. “I just got sick of arguing, so I left to get back to Wesley. I found him and Fred all tangled up and I was… concerned.” Green.

 

I snorted internally: concerned about what, Lilah? That the person you’d been tormenting for hours might have found happiness? “So I went over to talk to them, and we had a similar kind of conversation to the ones we shared on Earth.” Green. I balked. That was _technically_ true, as all she’d done on Earth had been berate us and mock us. But that wasn’t what she’d implied… frickin’ lawyers! “Actually-” I began.

 

Michael held up a hand. “Please allow Lilah to finish, Winifred.” I shut my mouth, pouting. Lilah smiled gratefully at me. God, why did she have to flaunt all the laws of decency?

 

“Midway through our talk, Jenny showed up. I immediately recognised her as the person who’d bumped me and deduced that - for some reason - she’d tried to keep me away from Fred and Wesley. We traded some more barbs, until Jenny cut me off. I believe she interpreted my conversation with Fred and Wesley differently to how I did. She called me a pathetic, amoral and stupid tart. Then she shoved me into the fountain. That’s about when you arrived.”

 

Michael took the cube from Lilah and passed it to Jenny. “Ms Calendar, is that true?”

“I also called her a waste of a soul-shaped husk forsaken by God.” Green.

 

Michael blinked, and leaned back in his chair. “Do you have any clarifications you’d like to make which would dispute Lilah’s interpretation of this situation?”

“Well, when I spoke to her during her conversation with Fred and Wesley, it certainly didn’t sound like a pleasant conversation. There were deeply unpleasant insults being fired at Fred and Wesley, and Lilah seemed to be delighting in tormenting them.”

 

Michael motioned for Jenny to pass the box to me. I took it. “Fred, is that the case?”

“Yes.” The box glowed green. “Lilah was trying to antagonise us. It was working too. I felt hurt and very cross.” Green.

 

Michael nodded. “Do you believe this excused Jenny’s actions?”

“She was only looking out for me.” Green.

“Hmm. So you believe that.” Michael leaned back in his chair. “Give Wesley the box please.”  
Wesley took it. “Do you have any defence to offer for Lilah’s actions against Fred?”

I frowned. Why would Wesley want to defend Lilah? Wesley shrugged. “Her parents never loved her and she lived her entire life without a shred of genuine human affection. Life at Wolfram & Hart doesn’t exactly lend itself to being genuinely courteous with others.” Green.

 

“Jenny, take the box.” Michael leaned forwards, staring at Jenny. “Were you trying to delay or distract Lilah?”

“No.” The box glowed bright red.

“Would you like to change your answer to the question?”  
“No.” Green.

“Look.” Michael sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “If you just help me understand what’s going on, we can resolve all this amicably. I really want that. Why were you trying to delay Ms Morgan?”

“I wasn’t.” Red.

 

Michael looked exasperated. “Were you _asked_ to delay Lilah?”

“No.” Green. Right: it had been her idea.

“Were you doing it on behalf of anyone else, even if they hadn’t asked you to?”  
“No.” Red. Jenny was staring defiantly at Michael, dark eyes determined.

Michael stared back. “But… but I can _see_ you’re lying! Why… why are you…” He sighed and collapsed back in his chair.

 

“Fine. Jenny, I’m placing you under house arrest for the next one-hundred and twenty hours. Do not attempt to leave your home. Ms Morgan, is this acceptable?”

“Can I also get some kind of restraining order?”

“Not possible, the neighbourhood is far too small. But, if you wish it Lilah, I can mute your speech. Neither of you will be able to hear what the other is saying or read the other’s lips. A verbal restraining order.”  
“Fine.”  


Jenny frowned. “I object to that."  
Michael looked over at her. “You are being punished, Ms Calendar. Please, do not make this any harder for me. Lilah, I’m placing you under house arrest for forty-eight hours.”

“What did I do? She’s the one who pushed me in the fountain!” Lilah protested.

“You made deliberate, concerted attempts to provoke all three of these people. And you attempted to hide that fact from me through careful phrasing of sentences to defy the truth cube. You are getting off lightly. Do either of you have anything further to say?”

 

Lilah folded her arms, frowning. Jenny shrugged nonchalantly. “Then it’s settled. Return to your homes _immediately._ Janet, please walk them back and set up a verbal restraining order for the next two weeks. Fred, Wesley, please stay.” 

Janet materialised. “This way, please.” Jenny shot me a questioning look. I nodded. Jenny nodded in return and left. Lilah followed, shutting the door behind her.

 

Michael sighed and returned the cube to the drawer in his desk. He looked at us. I swallowed. I suppose it was our turn to get a dressing down. “I am so sorry about all of this.” Michael sighed. “I should have been more hands-on with Lilah. I knew that despite her score, she was a little bit of a fixer-upper. I’ll be on hand in future to help you out Wesley. If you need anything, I’ll be there. And Fred: Jenny is a lovely soul. A beautiful soulmate. The friendship that blossoms between you two will be beautiful: just… try to make sure her hot blood doesn’t land her in any more trouble in future. This is the first time I’ve _ever_ had to take disciplinary action against anyone and I hope it’s the last.” Michael let out a sigh, removing his glasses. His bright blue eyes were slightly subdued, and he looked exhausted. He rubbed his face wearily. I glanced at Wesley and we had a silent conversation. I think it went something like this.

 

_Is now the best time to confront Michael about us?_

_Sooner is better. No sense in waiting._

_He looks exhausted. Do we want to pile more on his plate?_

_If we let this keep going, it’ll only be more of a mess to untangle._

_I know. But…_

_There’s no better time to convince him Lilah doesn’t belong, with the fresh memory of what she did in his mind. Besides, we might be able to exonerate Jenny a little, by confessing she was delaying on our behalf._

_Okay. Let’s do this._

 

“Michael.” Wesley said slowly. “Fred and I… well… there’s a problem.”  
“Oh, no.” Michael looked despondent. “What is it now? Is it something I said?”

“It’s just that… well…”

“Your system stinks.” I finished. Wesley choked and I continued. “What I mean to say is… Wesley and I belong together. He doesn’t belong with Lilah and - as lovely as Jenny is - I don’t belong with her. We complete each other. And we’ve talked about this _a lot_ already and we’re absolutely convinced.”

 

Michael frowned. He blinked. “I’m… I’m afraid you’re wrong. Completely. The system is infallible. The Good Place wouldn’t make that kind of mistake, it’s omniscient-”

“Well, it’s wrong.” I cut him off. “We’re in love. Jenny’s a lovely friend, but I love Wesley. And as for Wesley…”  
“I believe Jenny described Lilah best.” Wesley stared at Michael. “A waste of a soul-shaped husk, forsaken by God. I have no interest in spending any time with her.”

Michael’s eyes shifted between us, comprehension dawning. “Now I see. Now I understand why Jenny was delaying Lilah. Fred, you’re trying to sabotage Wesley.”

 

I gaped, mouth falling open. That was… that was _absurd._ It wasn’t sabotage when the other person was an evil bitch _and_ you’d already confessed your love that same day. This was ridiculous.

 

Michael sighed. “God, Lilah is already in a desperate enough situation without you trying to break her spirit.”  
“I’m not-”

“Fred isn’t-”

 

Michael looked up at us and the words died in our throats. “Lilah lived a traumatic life, as Wesley pointed out. She was alone, afraid and starved of any true affection. And - despite all this - she still saved the world. Still got here. Now it’s my job - and Wesley’s - to help her become the person she’s meant to be. And this… this infatuation. It will bring you no happiness.”

 

“It’s already brought me a great deal of happiness.” Wesley said dangerously.

“Same here.”

 

Michael shook his head. “I’ve seen this before. People who knew each other in life. They cling desperately to one another. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, a way to avoid processing the grief of your own death. In Wesley’s case at least. For Fred, this verges on a dangerous obsession, mingled with feelings of guilt.”  
  
“This isn’t a coping mechanism.” I clenched my fists. “Or an infatuation. Or grief or guilt.”

“It’s love.” Wesley said simply, taking my hand. I gripped his tightly.

 

Michael shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Would it help if I showed you our analysis? The mechanism of the soulmate pairing system.”

 

“if by that you mean, ‘will it change our minds’ then the answer is no.” I replied.

“Same here.” Wesley nodded.

 

“Well, listen anyway.” Michael sighed and picked up a folder labelled ‘Wesley’ from his desk. He tossed it into the air over his desk, where it vanished in a flash of light. It was replaced instead by a number of different windows. Each was marked: Conversation Transcripts, Score Breakdown, Preference List, Personality Breakdown… Soulmate Calculation.

 

Michael waved his hand at that window. The others vanished and that window split into dozens of smaller boxes. “The system works by running millions of simulations. Every individual has millions of simulations run: we match them up with every person in their lives and everyone else the Good Place identifies as a plausible match. We ran almost two million simulations of you and Lilah, under different circumstances, different backgrounds and scenarios.

 

A single window zoomed in and enlarged. I blinked disbelievingly. It was LIlah and Wesley. They were both wearing suits and walking through… Wolfram & Hart? They were chatting about some magical application for a theory. “I’ll see you tonight… Vice-President Morgan.” The Wesley in the video whispered, face pressed into Lilah’s neck and smiling naughtily.

“Not if I see you first.” Lilah purred, planting a kiss on him.

 

Dozens of videos began cycling: what looked very much like Lilah as a member of Angel investigations, one of them both doing charity work, both of them as watchers, strangers in a bar, opponents in a chess game, childhood friends, teenage sweethearts… There were so many. And in every single window they both looked indescribably happy. Completely in love. He was giving her the kind of looks he’d always given me.

 

“I could continue.” Michael paused, glancing between Wesley and I. “But I think you get the picture.” I glanced at Wesley. He looked shocked: horrified even. He looked ever at me and shook his head rapidly.

 

“In every scenario,” Michael spoke. “There is at first a period of conflict. Of bitter, mutual rivalry and dislike. Over time, this shifts. Changes. First to respect. Then to lust. Affection. Love. Bliss. I had not wanted to reveal this to you, for fear it would lengthen the process but I have no other choice.”

 

“And now, for the simulations concerning the two of you.” Michael flicked his wrist and dozens more windows cropped us. This time it was _us_. On a blanket under a starry sky, kissing and cuddling. A ship, sailing across an ocean: Wesley commanding and myself navigating. Climbing a mountain. Wesley at Wolfram  & Hart, myself a member of Angel Investigations.

 

“We look happy.” I murmured, scanning them.

Michael sighed. “It starts that way. But in every case… there is ruin. At first, the love is unrequited. It scars. It breaks one or both of you apart. Then - sometimes, not always - you came together and for a time you are content. But it always falls apart: vicious arguments. A failure of one to meet the high expectations of the other. Bitterness. Feelings of inadequacy. Criticism of every decision made by the other. Excessive possessiveness. Eventually, you are broken apart. Every. Time. It leads only to Ruin. I have witnessed this play out, thousands upon thousands of times. I was right to be concerned when the two of you met.” Michael sighed, rubbing his temples. “You were supposed to run into each other a little later: once you’d begun to experience true happiness with your soulmate. Then you could be friends. As intended.”

 

“Intended by whom?” Wesley asked softly.

“The Good Place. It knows what is best.” Michael said firmly. “For all of us.”

“Even if,” I started talking. “We assume that your crazy system’s claim that Lilah and Wesley can be happy together is true, then what about me? Is it claiming that I’m going to find romantic love with Jenny?”  


“It might be better if Wesley left the room-”

“Actually, I’d like him to stay.” I cut Michael off. “So we can hear whatever ridiculous explanation the system gives.”

Michael grimaced. “The system was clear on this Fred: every romantic relationship you were placed in - without failure - ended in tragedy. _With everyone_. Not a single happy relationship. Not even a mediocre one. Always an unhappy, bitter end.”

 

That wasn’t right. That… that _couldn’t_ be right. I wasn’t poison… I could be happy with others, have meaningful relationships-

 

The memory of Gunn seared across my eyeballs, my vicious breakup to him reasserting itself.

 

But… but it couldn’t be right. It was like he was saying that… that I was incapable of love. I could _love._ I _love_ Wesley. He had to be wrong. There was no way…

 

“The System concluded that only a platonic relationship would bring you happiness. So we shifted gears, started running alternate simulations. This all took place decades ago, of course. We swiftly identified Jenny Calendar as the ideal choice. The perfect temperament to pair with yours. Similar interests, personalities… you two will be the closest of close friends. But Romantic love? It will _never_ make you happy.”

 

“This is… this is all completely wrong!” Wesley stood up, suddenly shouting. “How dare you speak to Fred like this?”

Michael shook his head, staring at his desk. “I can only tell you the truth. I have no power to convince you not to go ahead with this and certainly no power to keep you apart. But, please, heed my advice. This… it is not what is best for you.”

 

“I think I know what’s best for myself.” I snapped at him. “And so does Wesley.”

Michael sighed, those kindly blue eyes filled with terrible sadness. “I am sorry I cannot convince you otherwise. I can only warn you this path will lead you to ruin.” He swallowed, actual tears welling in his eyes. “I hope you can forgive me for failing to bring you happiness.”

 

Wesley looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “I say we get out of this office.”  
“Sounds good.” I agreed and we ran. 

 

We barged through the office doors and across the pleasant antechamber. I glanced back as we neared the outside. Michael’s head was buried in his hands. He looked truly guilty and despondent. I felt kinda sorry for him: but we were right. We were.

 

We were out on the cool street, then. A short distance away from the party, still going on, if subdued. “Where do we go?” I asked Wesley.

Wesley looked at me. “I know a place.” He replied and offered me his arm. I linked mine in his and we started walking. The silence between us wasn’t comfortable enough any more. I could feel it had changed. What would have been warm and enveloping felt almost oppressive. “Fred, could there theoretically be a last number in Pi?” Wesley asked, abruptly.

I frowned. “Sure. Why?”

“Janet claimed to know it.”

 

I scowled. “Not a fan?” Wesley frowned.

“No, it’s just…” I sighed. “I spent so long trying to understand the world, y’know? Science, the laws of nature. Then it turns out magic is real and hey, so are portals. And I even fit that in, because most magic seems to conserve energy and obey the laws, in its own weird way. But almost everything Janet does seems to break those laws.”

 

“Maybe rationalising Janet can be a long-term science project?” Wesley suggested.

I couldn’t help but smile. “I thought the exact same thing not too long ago.” Wesley smiled back.

I unlinked our arms and put mine around his waist. He put his over my shoulders. “It’s a beautiful night.” I smiled.

 

And it was: a lovely gibbous moon. Shining stars. Warm weather, with the perfect refreshing breeze. The pleasant smell of nature, without any hint of something unnatural. I gasped as we crested a small hill: the lake looked absolutely beautiful. The water was dark, shimmering like a sheet of glass. Tiny waves lapped against the sandy shore: what caused them I couldn’t imagine but they looked very pretty. 

 

We descended to the water’s edge. “This the place?” I asked.

Wesley shook his head and pointed over the water. I squinted: a tiny island rising from the surface near the centre of the lake. “I wager we’ll be the first people to set foot on it. Interested?”

“Most definitely.” I kicked off my heels, wiggling my toes in the sand. It was soft and smooth. I knew instinctively it wouldn’t stick to my feet or annoy me. “Janet? Could I have a boat large enough for two with a set of oars?”

 

A small rowboat materialised next to us, bobbing on the water. Wesley offered me a hand. I giggled as he helped me into the boat, then followed me. He started rowing towards the island. I closed my eyes, enjoying the slight rocking of the boat and the sound of the water. “You know.” I said after a minute. “You could have got a self-propelling boat.”  
“I know.” Wesley smiled at me. “I wanted to do this for you.”  
I raised an eyebrow. “Waste my time?” I smirked. Wesley chuckled, shaking his head. I noticed a tiny dark stain on his left collar, and wondered idly how it had got there.

 

The boat landed on the island’s shore. Wesley helped me disembark. The island was very small: it took us less than a minute’s walk to reach the centre. A clearing amongst some trees. Wesley lay down on the grass and I followed suit: it was marvellously soft grass. I hummed contentedly, stretching out.

 

I looked over at Wesley, who was looking at me, and smiled. “I worked hard on this look.” I confessed. “Glad to see it works.”

“I thought you might have.” Wesley kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Have I told you that you’re incredibly beautiful?”

“Might have done. Could stand you doing it a few more times.”

“You’re always beautiful Fred. So why go to all the bother?”

I flushed. “I wanted to get your attention. I was jealous of the soulmate I thought up for you. Wanted to steal her spotlight. Thought it might be a nice surprise for you.”

Wesley leaned over and kissed me deeply. He broke off after a few seconds. “Fred, you _always_ steal the show. Without fail. Now, can I show you my surprise?”

“Ooh go ahead.”  
“Look up. The constellations.” I obliged, feeling Wesley thread his fingers through mine as I did so. I clasped his hand, happy for the warmth.

 

“Notice anything?”

I flicked my gaze across the sky, searching for familiar patterns. Oh! “The constellations are all different!” I gasped. “Of course! We’re not in the same dimension so the stars would have to be different.”

“That’s right. And I thought,” Wesley looked over at me. “That you might be interested in charting them with me?” Could he be any more perfect?

 

“I would _love_ that.” I nuzzled at his neck. 

“Janet? Telescope, blank star chart, astronomy instruments please.”

They materialised into position a few feet away. I stood up, dragging Wesley with me. We took turns on the telescope: the sky was - of course - perfectly clear, making mapping out the stars easy. We swiftly began to identify some obvious constellations: a heart shape, a unicorn, a pine tree.

 

We worked for what felt like hours, painstakingly mapping them. We shared only light touches and knowing looks. He would lean over my shoulder to scribble on a sheet. I would stroke his hair as I waited my turn on the telescope. It felt completely intimate. We didn’t feel the need to talk much: our focus was total. Our silence was golden once again. Most had been named easily. On a few we had disagreed, and left unnamed. 

 

I stepped into the centre of the clearing and Wesley followed. We linked arms. “Janet,” I called out. “Superimpose a 3D view of the stars we mapped around us please. In a nice sphere. And highlight the constellations we’ve picked out.”

 

They burst into being us, pinpricks of light. We named the last few: the wolf prowling near the pine tree became Feigenbaum. The figure reaching out desperately to hold a star in his grasp was Angel. I dismissed the sphere - everything named - and we sat back to back on the grass. “I wonder if those stars are really stars.” Wesley mused. 

“Hmm?” I asked. “Oh: you think that since the bounds of this dimension are likely quite small that the stars might just be pinpricks of light, rather than real celestial bodies?”

“I am concerned that we spent the last few hours naming glorified light bulbs, yes.”

 

I giggled, swatting at his arm. “I don’t care if we did. I enjoyed it. Janet?”

“Hi, Fred.” Janet smiled.

“Could you take a copy of that star chart and put it on the neighbourhood notice board tomorrow? People might be interested.”

Janet vanished. “Always thinking of others.” Wesley mused. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

 

I swallowed. “I don’t believe what Michael said. About us. For the record.”

“Good. Because I don’t either.” Wesley stood up and turned to face me: I stood up and shifted to face him. He put his hands on my waist, then he took a deep breath and started to talk.

 

“And I don’t care if he is. I don’t care if by some cold mathematical measure I will be ‘happier’ with anyone else. And I know that no matter what those simulations say, we will stay together. Be together. I care for you, Fred. I love you. You’re the love of my life and of my afterlife. But you’re so much more.” His eyes ran over me: head to toe and back again. I felt a pleasant shiver pass me, a terrible thrill at being so clearly adored and desired. “You are the sun that warms me, that fills my days with joy and my heart with bliss. You are my stars: the beautiful luminescence that _demands_ my attention, to be admired, adored and charted. You bring me perfect happiness Winifred: and if I was Angel, then even a single moment with you would be enough to steal my soul away. And it would be worth it.”

 

He was staring into my eyes. I smiled at him and kissed him chastely, to let him know how much his words had warmed me. Because they had. They meant a lot. But he always got to be the romantic one: it was my turn now. “I’m not good with long speeches. My thoughts tend to get away from me and then I ramble, and it’s not pretty. But I am good with science. And there’s only one word to describe what you are to me: you are my _gravity_. You hold my world together. And after I came back from hell and Angel left us, you were the only normal thing in my crazy, messed-up life. The only one who truly cared not just for me, but about me. And it took me a long while to realise it, but we’re in each other’s orbits: we’re binary stars. And we’re going to circle forever. And there’s no force in the universe that’s going to keep you and me apart.”

 

“Fred,” Wesley whispered, stroking my cheek. He looked wonderfully happy, eyes on the verge of tears. “I can’t begin to reply to that.”

“Then don’t.” I whispered and kissed him. Electricity surged through me as he wrapped his arms around me and I slung mine around his head. He kissed me passionately, lovingly, intensely. I felt so sure I was the centre of his world. This couldn’t be anywhere other than paradise. But I’d kissed enough. I wanted more.

 

Without breaking the kiss, I slowly pushed Wesley backwards, walking him to the nearest tree. I slowly, carefully began to unbutton his shirt. Wesley shrugged off his jacket, allowing it to fall to the grassy floor. I liberated him from his shirt and he picked me up, forcing me to wrap my legs around him. He broke his mouth away from mine and began to plant kisses down my neck. I moaned, as he slowly lowered me to the floor. He kept kissing, off my neck all the way down to the top of my dress. He looked up at me, questioning. 

 

“Let me.” I whispered. I stood up and stepped away. I could barely breathe. I could barely think. It was the first time in my life when I couldn’t think and couldn’t care less. I slowly peeled off one glove after the other, drawing it out. Wesley twitched slightly, and I knew he was desperate to charge at me. It was good of him to wait. I definitely didn’t want him to. I began to slowly back away towards the beach. He followed, keeping the same distance. I waited until I was at the water’s edge, then unzipped the dress and dived in. The warm water soothed every inch of me. I didn’t swim far: just far enough that my shoulders just broke the surface. I curled my toes in the soft sand of the lakebed and waited patiently. Wesley followed me. “Do you know,” He whispered. “That when I saw you earlier, I thought there was nothing more beautiful than you in that dress?”  
“What do you think now?”

His gaze travelled downwards and I felt goosebumps rise all over me, as he observed me through the crystal-clear water, suddenly inextricably lit from below, bathing me in a warm glow. Thank you, paradise. “That I was desperately wrong.” I flushed and Wesley raised an eyebrow. “And, that that blush of yours goes a long way down.”

 

I closed the few inches of distance between us and kissed him again. I don’t know how long we stood there, tangled in each other. Happy to take our time. Wesley’s presence was all I needed to feel content. His hands ghosted over me, touching me with more tenderness and affection than I’d ever known. Every molecule of me sang in joy. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in and relishing the tiny shiver as my arms left the warmth of the water. My arms warmed up again quickly enough, a slow warm feeling working it’s way over them. I also felt it on my neck. I frowned: it also felt slightly sticky. And what was that coppery smell? I slowly, reluctantly opened my eyes.

 

No.

 

Wesley stared down at me lovingly. “Why did you stop?” He murmured, hand reaching up to stroke my cheek. I stared at him in horror. Not at his face, but at his neck. Because it had opened up. That same terrible would I’d seen on his dead body had opened again - even though there hadn’t been so much as a scar there earlier - and blood was lazily pumping out. It was flowing over my arms. Spilling onto my neck. Dissipating in the lake, turning that bright blue water a terrible cloudy red. And Wesley’s expression suddenly shifted to one of fear. He blinked. “No…” He whispered and his eyes rolled up in his head, eyelids closing as he collapsed backwards into the water.

“NO!” I screamed. I clamped one hand over the wound on his neck and pulled him back towards shore. I could feel his blood pumping out between my fingers, like it was eager to escape his body. No no no no no no nonononono. This wasn’t right, this couldn’t be happening, this didn’t make _sense._ He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t be _dying_. Not again. Not here. This was heaven, you… you can’t die in heaven, and especially not for no reason! He hadn’t even had a scar there, why did it feel like his neck had been sliced open all over again?

 

I dropped him onto the sand. He coughed weakly, drops of blood spattering onto the sand from his mouth. I knelt at his side, compressing the wound. “Janet, get me bandages! Full medical kit!” They dropped to the ground next to me. I desperately tried to open the box with one hand, the other trying and failing to staunch the bleeding. The lid clattered open and my free hand seized the bandages, my eyes shifting back to him.

 

No. It was impossible.

 

The skin around the wound… it was dissolving. Melting away beneath my touch, as more blood pumped out and out. I whimpered, feeling a waterfall of tears crash down my face. This couldn’t be happening. I started desperately to bandage the wound.

 

“Fred…” Wesley whispered. 

“I’m here, I’m gonna help. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Fred I… I’m cold. Why am I cold? It shouldn’t be cold here.”

“I’m right here Wesley, stay with me."  
“I want to stay.” Tears shone in Wesley’s eyes. “I can’t do this again, Fred. Not like this. Please no. Why am I cold? I can’t be cold. It’s so warm here, with you. I don’t want to be somewhere that’s cold. I want to be with you. I want to _stay._ ”

“You can stay!” I screamed at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Please, please stay!” 

“Fred?” Wesley sounded panicked. His eyes were jerking around. “Fred, where are you? Fred, don’t leave me!” He started thrashing desperately, the blood soaking clean through the bandage and pooling on the ground. I desperately grabbed for another wad.

“Wesley, I’m here!” I cried. “I’m right here, I didn’t leave!”  
He collapsed back to the ground, eyes staring blankly at the sky. “Why… did you… leave me… Why… cold…” His breath hitched for a second, then his eyes locked with mine. He smiled. “Fred… I… I love… you…” The flow of blood slowed to the barest trickle.

“Wesley!” I shook him. “Wesley, _wake up!_ ” I shook him, gripping his face in my hands. “Wake up damn it!”

 

I withdrew my hands, screaming. His face was dissolving under my touch. The cheeks melting inwards, sinking away. Hairs dissolving off his chin. I scrambled away from him, crawling on my hands and knees. I looked at my hands. The hands that had held Wesley’s neck before his old wound reopened and spat his lifeblood onto the sand. The hands that had melted his face. My mind flashed back to that barest spot of blood on his collar, that must have been caused when I stroked his face at the fountain.

 

_I killed Wesley._

 

I had to get help. I had to get Michael. Jenny. Anyone. I had to-

 

Wesley let out a hacking cough. I stiffened, staring at him. He let out a wheezing hacking cough. I held my breath, not daring to believe. Painstakingly slowly, the hairs returned to his head. His cheeks filled out. The awful, gaping wound on his neck began to knit over. He shifted to look at me, eyes wide. “Fred… God, it hurts… please… just hold me… please…”

 

I took a shaky step towards him. Wesley frowned for a second. The knitted over skin on his neck gave way, unleashing a fresh torrent of blood. I ran. I ran away. I charged to the boat and I rowed myself desperately back to land. I sprinted back to my house, I got inside, I shut the door and I collapsed against it and cried. Jenny rushed out, wrapping me in a hug and I screamed at her not to touch me, that I was poison and she didn’t listen.

 

I’d almost just killed Wesley. Probably worse, since my touch had literally been _dissolving his soul._ Oh God, Michael had been right. I would only bring Wesley ruin. I wasn’t going to hurt him. Not after everything he’d already been through. If Wesley was going to be safe, he could never see me again. So he couldn’t.

 

I cried. I cried in horror at how close Wesley had come to destruction. I cried at the horrible, vicious unfairness of it all. But most of all - selfishly - I cried for the loss of the love of my gravity, who I would forever be without.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this!


	6. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a traumatic experience, Fred and Wesley exchange letters.

Dear Wesley,

I’m sorry. Michael was… Michael was right. What I feel… it’s a coping mechanism. I’m still full of regret and grieving for my life on Earth, and I was using you to plug that hole. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I used you. And I’m sorry I hurt you.

Because that’s what I did. I don’t know why but… but I’m poison to you. When I kissed you, I caused the wound in your neck that killed you to reopen. And then my touch started to dissolve you: I almost killed you. Or rather, ended your existence. I doubt there’s a second afterlife for dead souls.

So it’s clear I can’t be around you. It’s not safe for you. And without me, not only will you get to continue existing in paradise you’ll get to be happy with your real soulmate. I’ll stay out of your way. I’m sorry that all I’ve done is hurt you. It’s been truly wonderful Wesley. I wish you every happiness.

Yours,

Fred

\+ + + + + + +

Dearest Fred,

You should know that I’m only writing this letter because I’ve found it completely impossible to visit you. And I mean that literally. Jenny refuses to let me in, and even when I managed to get doors or windows of your house open, I ran into an invisible wall. I wish I could explain myself in person, because words written on a page won’t do my feelings justice.

Michael is wrong. He will always be wrong about the two of us. Because I know what I feel for you. I know that I love you: and I believe you love me too (you wrote the present tense of ‘feel ’ in your letter to me). You have every right to grieve for your old life, but I’m not something you’re clinging to to remember it: I know grief, Fred. I’ve seen and known a great deal of it. You haven’t been feeling grief. You miss our friends, of course and I miss them too, but you aren’t pining desperately for your old life and clinging to scraps of it. You were as eager to embrace this new world — this second chance — as I was.

Because this is our second chance and we shouldn’t give it up. You will never be poison to me, Fred. I already told you that you’re my sunshine: this past day without you has been unbearable. I’ve been trapped with Lilah. You have no idea how awful she is. 

I could never love her. There is room in my heart only for you. There has only been room for you for a very long time. You are my first love, Winifred Burkle, and my only one. I need you. Whatever you think happened… something else must have caused it. You could never hurt me. And I can’t be happy without you in my afterlife.

Please, just talk to me. The thought of you in that house, blaming yourself, is a terrible thing. I love you, Fred. Please let me help you.

All my love,  
Wesley

\+ + + + + + +

Wesley,

Please don’t make this harder for both of us. What you’re saying is very sweet but it’s pointless to write it. I know that I am the reason your soul was nearly destroyed. I will not be the cause of that. You died all alone with your whole life ahead of you: I am not going to ruin your chance at happiness here. And before you write back to say that you can’t be happy without me, I remember Cordy telling me about the happy times you had while I was still in Pylea. 

You need to stop clinging to me. I am bad for you. I will hurt you. I might destroy you. You will grow to love Lilah: I saw it happen a thousand times in Michael’s simulations. Stop punishing yourself. And I am grieving for my past life: I clung to your memory after your death as a reminder of happier times and I’m using you to cling to those times now. My behaviour will destroy you, Wesley. I will not allow that to happen.

I will not reply to any other letters you send. If you approach me outside, I will leave. If you speak to me, I will not respond. I wish that things could have been so very different.

So one last time, with all my love,   
Fred

\+ + + + + + +

Dearest Fred,

I am writing this letter with all the hope in the world that you will at the least read it. You say that you will not reply and I pray - and I do not often pray - with every particle of my being that you will respond.

What you are proposing will not be merely difficult. It will be devastating. Just yesterday, we both promised that we would be together. That we loved each other. That we would not be separated. And here I stand in paradise, and I am alone. I will find no joy in this place if you are not by my side. 

I was happy before I met you, but if a man never knows true happiness would he not believe that any moment of meagre joy snatched from the jaws of a cruel world was utter bliss? So much of my life, I was afraid. Nervous and bumbling, desperate not to disappoint. My time with Angel changed me: I made better friends and became a better man and I did know happiness. But it was not perfect happiness: I have found that only at your side. 

If you are afraid to touch me, then I will never try to touch you. If you do not wish to speak to me, then I will happily sit in silence. Please, please, please help me to find a compromise. There must be a solution to this. It cannot be the design of this afterlife that I am supposed to cease existing. There is a flaw in this place somewhere, a malicious will, an incorrect feat of magic. I need you to help me find it. I am not giving up on this. 

Your behaviour could never destroy me. You could never hurt me. The sun may occasionally burn a man, but there is not one human who would wish to live without it if they could. I want my sunshine back: don’t you want your gravity? Do not keep us apart on my behalf.

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

I love you, Fred. I always will. 

Yours completely,  
Wesley

\+ + + + + + +

Fred

I crumpled it up in a ball and cried, great heaving sobs. Jenny came up to me and stroked my shoulder as I curled up into a ball. This was torture. This was awful. I could feel his pain in every stroke of his pain, sense the anguish behind his words. Wesley would never write this unless he meant every word of it. But I couldn’t see him, couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t have anything to do with him without risking his very existence.

“Are you sure you two couldn’t at least talk?” Jenny whispered eventually.  
“No!” I whispered, shaking my head. “I’m not strong enough. If I saw him now, if I heard his voice… I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I’d have to go to him and I’d kill him!”   
Jenny held me tight and murmured soft reassuring lies to me.

\+ + + + + + +

Dearest Fred,

It’s been an uneventful few days. I’ve done some exploration of the neighbourhood. It is truly beautiful. I’ve been going out of the house to escape Lilah, who is thankfully still under house arrest. She’s spent the last few days watching compilations of my most amusing and embarrassing failures, partially for her own enjoyment and partially to torment me.

I think she knows I’m writing these letters. I can see her smirking. Then again, she does that a lot anyway. I hope you’re eating well. The taco place in town is excellent. It’s also right next to the ice cream place. I’ll make sure not to be there between eleven and three tomorrow if you want to try them out. I’d recommend the satisfaction-flavoured spicy beef taco and the Eureka Ice cream. Though the first kiss ice cream also has a lot to recommend it. Obviously it can’t compare to the real thing.

I haven’t made much progress with my research. Proximity to your house (which I’m assuming you’re somewhere inside) has had no adverse effects, so even if your theory is correct I can still be in close proximity to you with no ill results. Michael keeps coming by to check up on me and Lilah. He’s trying so hard, but I find it very difficult to believe she’ll ever change. She doesn’t want to. She still delights in tormenting me. If I had a lozenge for every time she’s offered me one mockingly, I could start a major pharmaceutical company.

I love you. I miss you. I love you. Take care of yourself, please. Eat a taco. Have some ice cream. I love you.

Yours eternally,  
Wesley

\+ + + + + + +

Dearest Fred,

One week in paradise. I can honestly say it hasn’t lived up to its reputation. The only times I think I’ve been happy here were when I was with you. I hope you’ve had more luck. Give all my love to Jenny: I hope you two are working on some interesting scientific projects. I expect a copy of the article once you’re finished.

I still can’t observe any of our friends on Earth, but Janet tells me they’re all happy, healthy and alive. I hope they aren’t struggling too much without us: I’m sure they managed to find another expert on the arcane. I imagine finding a scientist willing to give up their research to fight demons for low pay and at constant risk is very difficult. 

I’ve been looking into the Apocalypse Michael said Lilah helped to prevent. It’s a very interesting story: apparently Lilah slayed some kind of extraordinarily powerful demon by exploiting a contract stolen from Wolfram & Hart. Had to do the chant right in front of it: finished, but the Senior Partners obliterated her immediately afterwards. According to her memories I accessed, she was expecting it. Surprisingly noble.

She’s still insufferable though. Evil, rude and cruel past the point of any reason.

I can’t dance around the fact that I’ve had no more luck with my research. Could use a brilliant mind. Just your thoughts on a few of my theories would be invaluable. Access to almost every book ever written and I’m still not having any luck. 

I hope you went and got Tacos and/or ice cream. They’re really very nice. I’d also say that the hot chocolate Janet makes is to die for. (See what I did there?)

Thinking of you. All my love,

Wesley

\+ + + + + + +

Dear Jenny,

I hope I’m not imposing but I wanted to ask a favour. 

I wanted to check how Fred was doing? She looked extremely distressed the last time I saw her and I’m concerned she may be blaming herself for what happened. I’m sure you’re already doing this, but hope you understand I have to ask you to look after her. Comfort her. I know that - were I in her position - I would be devastated.

I have enclosed a list of Fred’s favourite things (beginning with those she most often used in times of distress to comfort herself): I hope such information is helpful and that Fred feels better. If you wish to join Fred in staunchly not replying to my letters, I do of course understand. I hope however, that you understand I would do anything for Fred and want nothing but the best for her.

If you ever need my help, you need only ask.

Yours gratefully,  
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce

\+ + + + + + +

Fred

“Hi, Fred.” Jenny knocked on the door and slipped into the room. “How are you doing?”  
“Oh I… I’m fine.” I wiped my nose on the duvet and fixed a smile on my face. “I’m great.”  
“Glad to hear it.” Jenny cast a critical eye over the room: I had admittedly made a bit of a mess of it. Formulas scribbled on walls in an effort to distract myself, half-eaten meals left on plates and drafts for dozens of letters crumpled up and tossed in a corner.

I missed Wesley. I resisted the urge to sneak my hand under my pillow, to stroke the paper he’d written his letters on, to read them for the thousandth time. I could hear his voice so clearly through the lines. I wanted so badly to talk to him, confess to him, to apologise to him. But I’d seen what a few light touches from me had already done to him. Sustained proximity would be disastrous. And I knew I was weak: I knew that if I saw him, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself running to him and burying my head into his shoulder in my desperation to be held, to be loved and he would hold me and be there for me without a word of complaint until he faded completely from existence.

“I was just going to suggest we head out.” Jenny said slowly. “Try out the taco place in town, or the ice cream parlour. Maybe go sailing, or exploring or—”  
“No!” I shook my head rapidly. No. There was no guarantee I wouldn’t run into him or into Lilah (who I would kill, but for entirely different reasons) and cause another catastrophe. No. Here was best for now.

“Please, Fred.” Jenny sat on the edge of the bed. “Let’s just go for a short walk.”  
“No.” I shook my head. “But you should go.”  
Jenny sighed and put one arm around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Maybe we could watch some television?” Jenny suggested eventually. “Or a film?”  
“Sure,” I sat up in bed, eager for the distraction. “You pick.”  
Jenny looked thoughtful. “You feel like some classic Dr Who?”  
I perked up instantly. One of my favourites! “Sure! Sounds swell. Which is your favourite?”  
“Actually, it’s my first time.” Jenny smiled sheepishly. “You pick?”  
“Obviously we start with the first season,” I murmured. “Janet? TV wall, please.”

The lights in the room dimmed and the wall opposite the bed lit up, the opening theme music playing.

\+ + + + + + +

Dear Wesley,

I am doing my best to look after Fred. Thank you for your list, it has been helpful. Now I have a favour to ask of you : please stop writing letters. 

Fred is very distraught. Wracked by guilt. Even thinking about running into you gives her a miniature panic attack. Your letters aren’t helping, they’re only making her feel worse. She’s read them several hundred times at least, and I’m worried they’re only deepening her depression, which I’m doing my best to abate.

Fred has begun writing indecipherable formulae and equations on the walls - is there any precedent for her doing this? I believe I’m doing all I can, but doubt I will make much progress unless you stop writing letters. Believe me when I tell you that I feel for you: I know what it is like to lose your love and this seems an especially cruel situation. But it’s entirely possible that this is just entry pains: something that will improve after your soul is given time to acclimatise to this new place. Please, please, please stop writing Fred letters. And especially do not mention the lack of progress with your research into a way to fix this problem.

Best wishes,  
Jenny Calendar

\+ + + + + + +

Dear Jenny,

Thank you for looking after Fred, it truly means the world to me. There is precedent for her writing on walls: she shut herself in her room for several months after she was rescued from Pylea (she has told you that story, I hope? If not I can expand on the details in a further letter) and used such equations as a way to distract herself from dealing with her problems. Perhaps talking to her about her time on Earth - ideally not mentioning me, obviously - might be a good way to remind her of the last time she did this and how she beat it. Failing that, ice cream was always the best way to comfort her. Or takeout Chinese food.

With regards to your comments about me writing letters: since you believe they are doing Fred harm, I will of course stop. I was hoping the letters might be a way for us to stay in touch despite Fred’s belief she somehow hurts me by her proximity. As this is clearly not making her feel better, I will stop sending them.

The problem is more serious with regards to my research: I am certain that this issue is fixable and have come up with several theories. Unfortunately, I lack the scientific mind needed to validate them and desperately need a second set of eyes to make sure I haven’t made any false assumptions or logical errors. Since Fred will not help me, I was hoping you would consider it. Should my endeavour prove fruitless, no harm will have been done. But if it succeeds, Fred and I could finally be together. That would make both of us indescribably happy.

Will you help me? I require very little of your time.

Yours sincerely,  
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce

\+ + + + + + +

Dear Wesley,

Thank you for your advice. Thank you especially for ceasing to write Fred letters. I have noticed a marked improvement in her demeanour. I will attempt to sneak away the letters you already wrote her in a few days so she stops re-reading them.

I am willing to help with your research, on several conditions.

That this goes only as far as I am willing to let it go. I am more than aware that you can be… overzealous. I will not be dragged into anything foolhardy or reckless  
That Fred never discovers I am helping you. Never. Knowing that I was seeing you and she couldn’t would be devastating for her.  
That I don’t have to speak to or see Lilah Morgan. I have a bad feeling I might lose my self-control if I did so.

These terms are non-negotiable. 

Warm wishes,  
Jenny 

\+ + + + + + +

Dear Jenny,

Deal. Meet me at the picnic table at the edge of the forest early tomorrow morning. Say, 5am? That should allow minimum disruption and minimise risk of discovery. Please bring whatever you need with you: I suspect that despite his claims, Janet may report what we ask of her to Michael if it is unorthodox. 

Ideally, I would need you to bring your thinking cap and your finest portable computer. I look forward to working with you.

Yours expectingly,  
Wesley


End file.
